


The Road to Recovery is Pathed in Chamomile Tea

by hatwall



Series: The Fighting Pit [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blood and Injury, Brotherly Love, Dadza, Discrimination, Dissociation, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Enderman Hybrid Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Family Dynamics, Flashbacks, Hurt Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, King Eret, Niki | Nihachu and Ranboo are Siblings, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Piglin Technoblade, Protective Niki, Recovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Serious Injuries, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Sleepy bois being sleepy, Social Anxiety, Touch-Starved, Unconsciousness, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, slowburn angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:42:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 50,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28841814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hatwall/pseuds/hatwall
Summary: After a close call, and nearly bleeding out in his car, Phil forced Technoblade to take a break and return home to recover. Techno knows that this impromptu and forced break will not go over well with the contract that he made with the company that he signed with, Hypixal. How long until his family notices that he's trying to speed along his recovery?This is strictly about the character and not about the actual content creators. If this crosses any of their boundaries, it will be immediately taken down. Respect people's boundaries.
Relationships: Eret & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Niki | Nihachu & Ranboo, Niki | Nihachu & Technoblade, No Romantic Relationship(s), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Series: The Fighting Pit [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2110044
Comments: 370
Kudos: 639





	1. Shaky Arms, Shaky Faith in the Process of Recovery

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [snapshots in lavender](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27539020) by [exceed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/exceed/pseuds/exceed). 



> Ayyy, here is the next work of this series. Recovery-arc, and more comfort, but also so much more angst.

Technoblade did not like being taken care of. It made him feel weak. Which was why he took care of most of his wounds on his own, because the thought of putting himself in such a position that someone else could hurt him even more was anxiety-inducing. So he took care of himself, moving out as soon as possible, and provided for himself. He had a job. He paid bills. He could cook and feed himself (whether he remembered too was another matter).

So being in a hospital, and having people watch over him all of the time, constantly asking if he needed anything, or was comfortable enough. And to make matters worse, his family was here, also hovering. There was not a moment where at least one of them was in the room, watching over him, making sure that he was ok. It was….unnerving. It made his skin crawl. He could do things. He could take care of himself. He was fine. A little blood loss never killed anyone.

So when the doctor came in and told him that he could be discharged, he was more than ready. While being forced to return to his childhood home, at least he would not have to deal with the extra doctors and nurses, and just his brothers and father. While they were being annoying at the moment, he could handle their presence better. Strangers he never liked being close to. Not unless he was allowed to fight them.

Wilbur, Tommy, and his father all stood next to his bed as the doctor told him what exactly he needed to do: rest, stay hydrated, don’t exert himself too much, and clean the wound's regulator. There were a lot of them, and they all had a chance of getting infected again. The piglin still had a little fever by the time he was allowed to leave, but nothing that was life-threatening, and the hospital did not want to keep a dangerous piglin warrior in their building for too long.

Besides, what if he went nuts, and started killing people?

He knew that was what all of them were thinking, but it’s not like he cared all that much. They welcomed Phil with open arms, sending condolences to him, and his sons, and yet cringed whenever they saw his snouted face. Maybe it was because Phil looked so much less….monstrous. Scary. The long tusks that grew out of his bottom jaw, the claws that were so much sharper than normal nails. The hooves, and inhuman legs. Rippling muscles, scars that covered almost all of his body, pink fur that was only interrupted by said scars. He was scary. Techno understood that. And he really did not care that they were scared of him. As long as he got to leave this stuffy place, and be anywhere else, he was happy.

So here he was, sitting on the edge of his bed, holding a shirt. His mind went blank as he stared at a wall, nothing going through his head.

The doctor had discovered that he had a mild concussion, but that was alright. Nothing he could not handle. None of this was nothing he could not handle. His family was just overreacting. They had always been like that. And if going back to his childhood server made them feel better, he guessed he would do it.

“Techno, come on, we need to go bitch,” Tommy’s loud voice shocked him out of his stupor, hastily pulling the white shirt over his torso, forcing himself to not wince with how it pulled at his wounds.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s get out of here,” Techno said, hefting himself to a standing position.

_Oh, that was a mistake._

His vision immediately went blurry. His mind escaping his body for a moment as he fought to balance. Balance that a body that, for a moment, really did not feel like his. A hand rushed to his head, trying to soothe the headache that had accompanied the dizziness. His legs shook under him, unable to hold himself up.

An arm hooked around his back, settling him back onto the bed. His head hurt so fucking bad. And a moment passed before it felt like every nerve in his body was sparked alive, sending a painful shiver through his body. Just under his skin, he was on fire. He was sure of it. The wounds were alive with pain, tiny suns radiating heat and just agonizing pain. 

He wanted it to stop.

Rubbing the heel of his hands into his eyes, Techno dragged himself back into his body, purely out of spite, before shoving the pain down. He could deal with that later. At the moment, he really just wanted to leave this place.

A voice was talking. Soft and caring. He grabbed on it, using the hand that was rubbing circles in his back as a guide back to the hospital room. Cheap sheets under him. Sicking slick floors that made it hard for him to walk around with his hooves, and the horrendous smells of a hospital. It all made him sick.

He swallowed the nausea, and settled into his hurting body, only then realizing that Tommy was sitting next to him, rubbing his back, whispering words that were only now just starting to make sense.

“-t’s ok Tech, just breath. You’re ok.”

Techno groaned, before lifting his head, slowly. That had been very unpleasant.

“Fuck,” he said dryly. When did his throat get so dry? “Fuck.”

“Let’s not do that again. I’m sure we can find a wheelchair around here somewhere.”

“No, Tommy, I can do it.” There were still lingering bits of pain in his voice that he was sure that his younger brother picked up on. The last thing that Techno wanted was to be wheeled through the hospital, unable to even hold himself up without help. He hated the way that people looked at him already, he did not need any more attention.

“Techno, you can’t stand up.”

“I’ll be fine,” he was growling. At his brother. That made his skin crawl but he could not stop the horrendous sound from coming out of his mouth in time.

“I’ll get Phil.”

His snout snapped shut, an audible click of his teeth hitting against each other. Tommy’s mouth stretch into a shit-eating grin. He had won. But Phil was one of the last people that Techno wanted to piss off, especially now.

Reluctantly, and with a heavy sigh to show that he was very unhappy, he gave his younger brother a nod.

The boy bolted off, busting out of the room in search of a wheelchair.

Techno let his head fall back into his hands. He did not want to do this. He wanted to sleep for the next ten years. Maybe that would get rid of the deep bags that were under his eyes, and exhaustion that clung to him like a ghost determined to haunt him. There was a dull buzz of pain that was alight across his skin, focused on the wounds.

There were a few major ones. One across his right thigh, a large slash all the way down to his knee. A lucky hit. It had bled like a bitch when he limped off of the ring, hastily putting some cloth to it before he drove him. Techno was not sure if he stitched it up or slept first, but either way, he had woken up the next day, sweaty and afraid. Afraid of how close he had actually come. Hours of shaky hands came after that, trying to calm himself down for the fight that he knew was later. It has been reopened many times since then.

There was one on his torso. Across his side. That was the one that he had gotten the night his family had found him bleeding out in his car. It was not that long, but it was deep, right in between his hips bones, and ribs. That one he liked looking at the least, and really just wanted to forget it existed altogether. It held….memories that he would much rather not revisit at the moment.

The third, and most painful was a single slash that was from his armpit to the very top of his hips, scraping against his ribs as he had gotten it. He remembered the noise. Metal scraping against bone. He gagged just thinking about it. While the one on his thigh had also gotten infected, this one was more of a problem. It reopened whenever he did anything with his arms, stretching the healing skin apart from each other, making it hard to treat. It had just been so much easier to ignore. Ignore the way that the blade had sunk into his skin after it had passed the ribs, getting scarily close to some of his organs. It was the one that made his heart jump when he had been in the fighting pit. It was the one that actually make him think “oh shit, this is the end.” It was the time that his brothers and fathers face’s flashed in his mind, and he mourned that he would not be able to see them again.

But with a quick spin around, sloppy and ugly looking Techno had completely bisected the man and lifted his sword in victory.

It had not been a good day after that. That was a fight he was ashamed to come home from. That was a fight he really hoped his family did not watch.

The door opened, pulling the piglin out of his mind, snapping into Tommy who stood in the doorway with a wheelchair, a big stupid grin on his face. Tommy always seemed to be smiling. A habit he had picked up from that little friend of his. Tubbo? Was that his name? But Techno really hoped that his little brother had not learned so early in life how to smile through pain.

“Get in big man,” he said, putting the chair right next to the bed, so it would be easy for his brother to slip in.

With a grunt, Techno grabbed the arms of the chairs, lifting himself off of the bed, and into the chair. He hated the way that his arms shook when he put all of his weight on them and prayed to whatever god that was out there that Tommy did not see it.

He lifted his hooves, setting them onto the little footholds, and took a moment to catch his breath.

Catch his breath?

That much effort and he was trying to catch his breath? He was the Blood God. There were times where he was fighting four people at a time, laughing and putting on a show for the people around him, and now he could not get into a wheelchair without losing his breath?

Shame burned deep in his throat, as he gave Tommy a thumbs up and they started to make their way to the elevator. God, he wanted to leave this place.

And he did not even get to leave the shame behind, because as soon as they stepped out into the hallway, people's heads turned to look at them immediately. A piglin in a wheelchair. The Blood God no less. It was not something that you saw every day. He could feel the pictures being taken, and he slumped further into the chair. At the moment, all he wanted to do was disappear.

They slipped into the elevator, and Techno let out a breath he did not know he was holding. 

“You doing ok big man?” Tommy asked. The concern in his voice seemed so out of place. It was not like he did not know his brother cared about him. He knew that (right?). But it was not Tommy’s normal place to be concerned. He was normally the one who was hurting and getting taken care of. There were many times the piglin had patched up his brother's wounds in the darkness of his room, after a fight he did not win, nor should he have been allowed to pick. Gritting his teeth as his piglin brother rubbed a little too hard in his wounds while grumbling under his breath about how late it was, and how he did not have the time for this.

With the wounds wrapped tight, Techno ruffled his brother’s hair and called him an idiot, not ignoring the tears in his eyes, but not exactly addressing them. He pulled Tommy into a large hug, as big as he could, like Phil did with his wings, to make the boy feel protected. He melted into the embrace, rubbing his tear-stained face into his bicep, and mumbling a thanks as he drifted off to sleep.

That was the way that it was supposed to be. Techno should not be the one hurt. He should not be the one in a wheelchair. He was the strong one. He needed to be strong.

“Yeah,” he said blandly. His throat still felt so dry, but he did not want to ask for anything. He had already caused enough problems. “Let’s just get out of here.”

The elevator doors opened, and the chair started to move again. They could see Phil and Wilbur at the front desk, filling out the last of the paperwork, before his father turned and looked at him. He gave a huge smile, the ones that made him close his eyes. An ache stabbed Techno’s chest. He did not deserve to be this man's son. He was a monster. One that fought people for fun. For money.

There were times when Techno was laying in his bed, in pain and sweating, waiting for the exhaustion of the day to take him, when he thought about how much better Phil’s life would have been if he had just left him in the Nether. That it would have just made everything so much more simple. He would not have these...urges.

He would not have to feel the dripping of blood through his hooves to feel alive. To feel his weapon hurt someone in the worst ways possible. He was so tired of being the way that he was. He was so tired of the rage that burned in his veins. He was so tired of….just being himself.

“Ready to head out?” Phil asked, smiling down at him.

Techno gave a tried nod, and Tommy started to push him to the parking garage.

Most people did not have the need for cars. Well, not unless they actually lived in the city. Phil had one just to get around the city the few times he actually came there. Qeupillia was the largest city on any server and attracted a lot of attention for that. A lot of people.

The days of quiet servers were over, and now people liked the large metropolitan city. Traveling to other servers, or starting their own was something of the past.

It made it easier for capitalist society to be alive and well, with commodities, and consumerism. Phil had expressed his distaste for it, thinking that people should be making their own things, feeling that pride when they made something and actually used it. That was why he kept his server that he had raised his sons on, even after the large city had been revealed. He liked the quiet. He liked the work.

Techno was not really sure how the quiet was going to mix with his...more aggressive instincts.

The small family walked up the smooth concrete of the parking garage, Phil and Wilbur on either side of his chair, Tommy pushing from behind. The space was open, filled with the fumes of many cars that had stretched to a halt, not moving fast enough to find out if their loved ones were actually alright. Gasoline, and other fumes trapped by the low ceilings.

If any of the others had Techno’s pigling nose they would have been able to smell the fear and anxiety that hung in the air. He hated the way that it made his skin crawl. Hated the way that it made him feel like smiling. He should not be smiling. Or reveling in that smell.

Techno just wanted to be alone.

They stopped on the side of Phil’s car, opening the backseat door. Techno placed his hooves on the cement, using shaky arms to lift himself up, trying his best to make the transition to the car.

He slipped. His hand slipping off of the cloth seat.

Two pairs of arms wrapped around him from each side, grabbing and holding him on shaky legs. Wilbur let out a grunt as he caught some of Techno’s weight.

Even in his weakened state, he was still a little too heavy for the musician to comfortably take half of his weight.

“Come on mate,” Phil said, lifting him back up, letting the piglin guide himself back into his seat. Grunting a little when he finally got in.

Before turning his eyes away from his family. He did not want to look at them. He did not even really want to acknowledge that they were there. His face burned with embarrassment, trying to stop the shake of his hands.

“Tommy can you take the wheelchair back,” Phil asked, before closing the car door.

Techno desperately wanted to forget the burning feeling in his eyes, the tears that were starting to collect in them.

The car was silent as they wanted for the youngest brother to get back. The air was thick with unspoken words, and thoughts. Maybe it was because he was so tired that they did not bring anything up to him. Maybe it was because they thought he had gone through enough, storing away their thoughts for later. Maybe they wanted to get home as fast as he wanted, and talking only seemed like it would just make it take too long.

Even when the youngest entered the car, he did in complete silence. No, “let’s go bitch,” or some comment about being a big man. He just slipped into the backseat with Techno, clicked on his seat belt, folded his hands, and waited.

It was eerie.

Unsettling.

This was not how his family normally acted.

And yet, Techno was too tired to ask questions. His skin was on fire with pain. He knew that the pain meds that they had him on were going to run out, and the pain would catch up. Part of him was alright with that. The other part was too tired to care.

Gently placing his head against the coldness of the window, Techno felt his eyelids getting very heavy. Maybe a little bit of a nap. Just a little one. Then he could think later. Right now, he did not want anything going through his head.

***

Phil glanced in the backseat, looking at his piglin son, asleep next to the window. The dark bags under his eyes had not gotten better, even with the increased amount of sleep he had been getting. He still looked horrible. His fur was dragged down, Phil was sure if he had human skin it would look pale. Eyes sunk in and exhausted. He had gained more muscles, that was very clear, but his limbs looked strained, worked to the bone, deep bruises still under his fur. His sears flopped down as he slept, not relaxed, but back. Like he was in pain.

Phil was sure that his son was in pain. There was no way that he was not. And he hated that fact. Hated that his son, his beautiful little boy was even in so much pain, and there was nothing that he could do about it. There was no way to take it all away. The hospital had done everything they were willing to do.

They had seen him fight. They had seen what he could do. They were afraid.

The fact that he was a piglin did not help either.

Hybrids, like Phil, were generally accepted. They did not face much discrimination, at least not anymore. The fight for their rights had been long, and ones that he often missed. He did not have much need to be around others, and would often just go off on his own, getting his own server to live in, and rarely coming out.

It was not until he adopted a piglin did he notice the stark difference in how certain people were treated. Players were treated well. Villagers were treated well. Hybrids slightly less, but it was manageable. Any sort of mob that had, somehow, gotten playership were treated like second rate citizens. No matter how strong, smart, or kind they were. It was the one constant that existed on all servers. Especially ones with high populations. There were only a few mobs who were lucky enough to get playership, but it was enough to notice how poorly they were actually treated.

And seeing how the piglin was commodified, treated like a product that could just be used to sell more tickets. “Come see the Blood God!” “Come see the out of control piglin!” 

“Watch as this monster takes down whoever stands in his way!”

He was not a person. He was a thing. A tool to be used and abused. To the point where the thing, where their product, broke.

The boy in his backseat was proof enough of that.

Phil glanced in the backseat.

Tommy kept his eyes on his brother whose head was leaned against the window, a steady rise and fall of his chest. The blond looked worried. A crease in his normally carefree face. Wilbur would look back every once in a while, giving his brother a once over, before returning to looking forward. They were worried. It was to be expected.

Phil only hoped that they could help, in any way. He knew that Techno trusted his family, with his life, that’s why he called them when he was….

But the piglin also did not like to leave a job half done. And Phil had heard enough to know that there was some kind of contract that he was signed with the company that he fought under. Something that was keeping him from actually taking care of himself.

Well, to be fair the piglin had never been the best at taking care of himself. But that was no excuse for how….bad this was.

The avian hybrid was jostled out of his thoughts as he threw the car into park, in the normal parking spot. Cutting the engine, he turned all the way back to get a proper look at the piglin.

Every time he looked at Techno, he looked worse. He was wearing a loose pink sweater, with gray sweatpants, the best things to wear to not disturb his wounds. It covered all of the bandages, but his body still tensed subconsciously. Like he was expecting to get hurt at any moment.

He tried not to think about that too much.

“Techno,” he shook his knee, making sure to avoid any wound he knew were there. “Techno we’re here.”

The piglin jolted out of his sleep, cringing in himself, looking around with wide eyes. Before curling upon himself, face scrunching in pain, doubling forward, and wrapping his arms around himself.

“Breath, it’s ok,” Phil started rubbing his back, basically in the back seat at this point, trying to get his son to breathe.

There was a whimper. Or the best way that it could be described. It sounds vaguely like words.

“What was that?” Phil asked, getting closer. Oh, how he wanted to scoop the boy up and hold like he did when his sons were young.

“Hurts…”


	2. The Impulsive Part is Your Heart Speaking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing bad happens to the Kennedy's.

Techno did not realize he had been dreaming until he woke up. Shaken by something, he cringed back instinctively. It was something he got used to doing ever since he had gotten almost beaten unconscious after falling asleep in the locker room. That had stopped that habit very fast.

He curled back on himself, the darkness still taking a moment to drip away, before…

Before his nerves came alive with pain, shooting through him. A fire was lit deep under his muscles, and skin, stars of pain sparkling across his vision. His stomach immediately flipped, and he felt the nausea starting to crawl up the sides of his throat.

Something was on his chest. Wrapped around it, constructing it. His ribs were being pushed into his lungs. He couldn’t breathe.

Someone was talking. Someone was trying to say something, but everything was too loud. There was cotton stuffed in his head, and he wanted to claw it out. He wanted to rip into his head and pluck it out so the pressure in his head would stop.

He tried to open his mouth and say something. Anything. Something that would make his head stop aching like there was some magic phrase that could make that happen.

A pathetic whimper ripped through his throat, cut off short when he snapped his snout shut. He curled up on himself, doubling over on himself, almost putting his head in between his knees.

The pain ebbed for a moment, just for a second, a breath forced itself out of his chest, letting him take in a few muffled deep breaths. Whoever was around him could not know about his condition. They could not…. 

“What was that?”

Phil.

It was Phil.

His dad. 

He was safe.

He was hurting.

Another shot of pain rippled through him, and Techno curled on himself even tighter. Tears stood in his eyes, and he wanted to make sure that they did not fall, but it was getting harder to even think.

“Hurts,” the piglin whined.

The pain faded for a moment, and his breath came back. This time gasping for air, taking in big greedy mouthfuls. He was starting to get light-headed. A sharp buzz of pain grew through his muscles, taking root in him and spreading to the rest of his body. Like thin wiry vines that were under his skin, with barbed hooks all over them. Something would pull them taut, and they would dig, dig into his flesh, ripping the muscles as they tried to travel closer to his center.

Yeah, it fucking hurt.

“Phil,” he gasped out, lifting his head a little, instantly face to face with the very blue, a very concerned face of his father. His blonde hair had always been a point of comfort for Techno when he had been a little kid. Probably because of his piglin nature of liking gold. It shone in the right lighting, healthy and thick. He had always run his hooved fingers through it when he was upset, tears still streaming down his face, hiccups rattling his chest, while Phil patiently waited for Techno to calm down enough to tell him what was wrong. Holding the piglin in his arms so the child could reach his hair. Techno shook the memory of his head. An aggressive headache immediately shook his head. He groaned, letting his head fall forward into his hands, digging his palms into his eyes to try to soothe the way his brain felt like it was being compressed at all sides, trying to reside being squished but only causing him more pain in the process. “Phil it really fucking hurts.”

“What hurts Techno?”

He tried. He really did try to pinpoint what hurt. But all of the vines were pulled, barbs digging into him, stretching the flesh in ways it should not be. His heart clenched in pain, forcing a breath out of him. And the most pathetic cry that had been torn from him.

_“Everything!”_

There was moving and talking, and noise all around him. The seatbelt that had been across his chest was unbuckled. Techno pressed his face into his elbow, screaming with pain as the vines twisted in him, scraping across everything with their sharp barbs, organs threatening to burst open and poison his insides.

The twisting stopped, and the piglin sank into the seat, letting his head back onto the headrest and breathing heavily, even worse than before. He was getting light-headed. 

Everything felt too far away, and yet the pain was the most prominent thing in his world. Consuming every nerve and bones and….

Someone put their hand on him.

Techno squeezed his eyes shut as an overwhelming shot of pain wrapped itself around his throat, and brought his skin alive with needles. A sharp shaky breath was sucking into his tight chest, trying to subside even a little bit of the pain. Darkness was all around him. He needed it off. _He needed it off._

“Stop,” the whimper was quiet and laced with unbearable pain. He tried to box it in. He really did, but it was just too much.

The hand left his shoulder, but the pain stayed, forcing him to take in shallow breaths, a pathetic attempt to try to get some control over his body that was very quickly slipping out of his control. 

The pain did not ebb. It stayed, and Techno wanted to cry.

A voice was talking to him, far off, but still very much there. But they were not talking to him. Techno cracked his eyes open, looking in front of him at the green blur that vaguely reminded him of his father.

Techno missed his father.

His head felt heavy and weighted. Lifting it took more energy than he had at the moment. He let it fall to the headrest behind him, groaning as he did. His headache was not getting better. Nothing was getting better.

“Techno,” the voice was soft and accented. It made him feel a small bit of calm in the center of his chest. “Technoblade, please you need to breathe, you’re going to make yourself pass out.”

Someone took his hand. The limb felt cold, asleep. With the very edges of his skin alive with nerves. He could barely feel the person grab it, and place it against a soft surface. One that was rising. Falling. Raising.

“Follow me,” the soft voice said.

It felt like pins and needles were going to pieces his lungs at any moment the seconds he took in a breath. His chest tried to fill with air, but one spike of pain too much, and Techno could only get about half a lung full of air before having to deflate the organ. He followed the slow and steady breaths of the person in front of him, some better than others.

Slowly, the lightheadedness started to fade, and Techno opened his eyes.

Phil was kneeling right in front of him. He was holding onto Techno's hooved hand, placing it right on his chest, looking up at his son with worry deep in those blue eyes that brought him so much comfort. Wilbur stood behind their father, hands limply at his side, looking at his older brother with horror. Those eyes did not belong to his brother.

And Tommy. The youngest. He was still next to him in the car, hands just above his shoulders, like he wanted to pull the piglin into a hug, but knew better. Like he knew the shooting pain that would course through him as soon as he did. Like he knew about the vines of pain that were threaded through his flesh.

Like he could see the way his brother’s face scrunched up in pain every few seconds. Like he could see the tears that streamed down his face.

“Techno,” Phil called his attention. Techno rolled his head on the headrest to look at his father. His chest was heaving for breath still, trying desperately to take in a good breath of air. The buzz of pain still soaked deep in him, creating a fuzzy curtain over his mind. It was hard to take in any information. “You’re pain meds ran out. That’s why you are feeling like this.”

Ahh yes. That made sense. Had it really been that long? But then again he was a big piglin, they most likely underdosed him with pain meds, since it was not really common to get piglins in hospitals.

So he was not stuck like this. He just needed to take some more meds, and he would be good to go.

Right?

“I’m going to give you your pain meds now,” Phil said, as Wilbur rushed to the other side of the car, most likely given orders while Techno was not paying attention. “You don’t have anything in your system. You should not throw this up, at least, that’s what the doctor said. Then we are going to get you home as fast as possible. We’re going to have to touch you for that.”

The vines twisted again, not as bad as the other times, but enough for Techno to groan and let his head fall back, and shut his eyes. He was not looking forward to this mission.  
“Thank you Wil,” Phil took his hooved hand into his own, rubbing the back of his hand a few times, feeling the pink fur. It felt grimy and dirty. He needed a shower. His hand was flipped over, and little tablets were put into his palm. Not waiting to be given something to wash them down with, Techno popped them into his mouth, dry swallowing them.  
There were a few minutes where he was allowed to breathe, trying to suppress the pain that was eating his insides alive. Out of all the times he had been slashed, hacked, shot, or set on fire, this was all of those things combined into one, single terrifying feeling. And the inevitable thought that he had thought so many times before that:

Is this permanent?

“Techno, we’re going to start moving you,” Phil said. “Tommy, help get him out. I’ll get his right side. Once he’s out, get his left side, and we’ll take him from there.”

Someone grabbed into his shoulder again.

Hot white pain shot through him, setting him on fire from the inside out. A cry bubbled up in his throat, but Techno gritted his teeth together, trying, trying to keep it together. 

Suppressing the cry of pain, and just let himself flop out of the car….

Into someone else’s arms. They nestled themselves under his arm and wrapped his waist.

And brushed against the wounds that were on his ribs.

The cry ripped through his throat, choking sobs following as he squeezed his eyes shut. Trying, trying so fucking hard to make it all go away. The wound was alive with pain, white spots stripping across his closed eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” a voice whispered into his ear, as the hand moved to his shoulder. The pain lingered. Staying stagnant in the wound, as another person slipped under his other arm, taking most of the weight off of his own feet completely, his hooves just hit the ground of the parking lot.

“Ok, we’re going to go slow. As slow as we can,” Phil said.

With his jaw firmly shut, Techno nodded and felt them starting to move.

His feet followed, clumsily, and uncoordinated. Most of his weight was carried by the other two, leaning his head on his father’s shoulder as they walked. 

Every movement hurt. Every jostle sent a shock of pain through his body. He tried to grit his teeth together, and swallow it down. His fur felt sticky. His skin felt hot. He could feel the tears gathering in his eyes, and he did not care. It fucking hurt. Everything fucking hurt. He could feel his stomach turn unhappily, and his head spin with nausea and pain.

“We’re almost too the portal, I swear, just a few more steps,” Phil whispered to him.

Techno cracked his eyes open for a second. Squinting with the bright lights that shone down on them.

People.

People were all around them.

Phones out.

They were taking pictures.

A few giggled a little, turning to the people that they were with and whispered cruel things. Smiles everywhere.

A piglin. So weak and helpless. A hot fever was written all over his face, wincing whenever he was jostled the wrong way. Torn ears dropping low, and scars of previous battles weighing down on him more than they should be. Being dragged by a hybrid and human, with another human following close behind. Worry is written all over their faces. A single goal in their minds, paying no mind to the people around them.

Paying no mind to the reputation that he had carefully built around him being demolished right before his eyes. As the flashes went, the pictures were taken, and people laughed.

They laughed at him.

Techno gritted his teeth tighter together, the only thing he could do as the vines started to twist once again, and focused on the portal in front of them. The tears started to fall as soon as they were through the cool feel of magic. A new feeling that was not just the, now dulling, feeling of pain that consumed all of his limbs. The edges of the wounds that littered his body started to fade, slowly, but something new started to weigh down on his chest.

Shame.

***

Tommy and Phil dragged the piglin through the portal, the young blonde keeping his eyes forward, and his mind on a single thought: get his big brother home.

They stumbled out and started to walk down the smooth stone path that led to their home.

Home.

A childhood home, and one that Tommy still very much lived in. He and Wilbur had yet to find some other place outside of it to be, but it was not like there was a rush. Their father liked it when his sons were around, and there was always plenty of work to do around the world. And they could leave whenever they wanted, as long as the avian hybrid knew where they were going. 

It was made out of warm oaks, large and homey. Lights shining out of the windows as the sun started to make its descent below the horizon.

Techno grunted, taking in a hissing breath, before gasping in air into his lungs. Clenching his hand tighter around the clump of Tommy’s shirt he had gathered.

Tommy wanted to move faster. He wanted to get the piglin into the house faster. The only thing that was keeping him from trying to run with Techno hanging off of him was the steady pace that Phil was taking. The logical part of his mind knew that that was the safe option. Knew that it was smart to take it slow.

The impulsive part of his brain wanted to make his brother better this instant.

And as much as Tommy wanted to listen to the logical part of his brain, his heart was the impulsive part of him.

Wilbur ran out in front of them a little, swinging open the door of their house, while Phil and Tommy shuffled in. He bolted off, bounding up the stairs that were to their right, with the other two immediately started to make their way to Techno’s room.

Passing the first room, which was the living room, and walking down a small hallway, past the stairs and to a door that was right next to them.

Techno’s room.

With the sign still pinned to the front of the door.

Phil slowly let go of the hand that was making sure that Techno’s arm stayed slung around his neck, and opened the door.

It was just like the day he had moved out. Bare. The piglin had taken everything with him the day he had moved out, only a bed center on the far wall, with heavy curtains over the only window, making it much darker.

Phil and Tommy maneuvered themselves through the small door frame, even with a large piglin in between them. They slowly made their way over to the bed.

“Tommy you’re going to have to hold him up for a while, while I move to the other side of the bed,” Phil said, “he’s heavy, and it’s going to be easier for me to pull him onto.”

Tommy gave a sharp nod, before moving himself closer to his brother, tightening the grip that he had around his waist, trying to make sure that he had a firm grip while their father started to slip away.

Techno flinched. He flinched and tried to move away from his younger brother, making a weak, pained squeal as he did, tugging at his hand that Tommy firmly kept around the back of his neck.

“Techno, whoa, wait, stop moving,” Tommy tried to keep his voice calm, he really did, but he could feel the weight being shifted. He could feel his brother slip from his grip. And he would never forgive himself if he dropped Techno, not in this condition. Not when he was so….hurt.

“Hurts, Tommy, it hurts, you’re….” his voice was strained and weak as he kept trying to pull away.

Tommy looked down. He was on his left side. He was pressed against one of his larger wounds. He could see the way that Techno’s arm tensed up, his face stretched up in pain.  
Tommy’s heart ached. He choked back a sob, before opening his mouth.

“It’s ok Techno, we’re almost there, just a few more minutes big guy.”

“Alright, pass him over,” Phil said, having pulled back the covered, arms outstretched for the piglin.

As slow, and as carefully as he could, Tommy let his brother into their father’s arms, letting the avian take the piglin and start to drag him onto the bed.

“Wait! No, stop, it hurts, stop please.” Techno was screaming. Squeezing his eyes shut as tears streamed down his face. The piglin spasmed in their grip, fighting against them, trying to curl up onto himself.

Tommy bit his tongue. Trying to not let the crushing sadness overtake his chest, as he took his hands away from his brother, putting them in the air. Phil slowly maneuvered the piglin, gently cradling his head, before gently laying it on the pillow. Techno turned over to the pillow, burying his head into it as he sobbed. Painfilled, agonizing cries ripped from his throat, as he pulled his knees up, trying to make himself as small as possible.

“Please, please don’t touch me, please.”

Tommy sucked in his bottom lip, biting hard down on it. Twisting his hands on one another. The sadness was starting to constrict his chest. Wrapping itself around his rib cage and squeezing. He wanted to say a joke. He wanted to lighten the mood some way, like he always did.

But his mind drew a blank.

And it was all he could to keep the tears from overflowing his eyes.

“Tommy you should go,” Phil said, taking a break from the reassuring whispers he had been giving his son.

“But….”

“There’s nothing we can do for him now. What he needs is rest, and I’m sure you could take a shower and sleep as well. I’ll let you know if he wakes up, but go get some sleep.”

Tommy looked at his brother. His strong, warrior brother. The one who had patched up his wounds when he was little, poking fun at him as he did. The one who had put himself in between his brothers and a horde of zombies when they were much too young to be out at night. The one who had asked no questions when he had crawled into bed with him, when their father had been away, or the two had fought. The one who….had taken care of him….

His big brother.

Tommy turned on his heels and bolted out of the room, head down, and fists balled. He turned sharply, and bounded up the stairs, moving to the side as Wilbur came down, blankets in his arms, and a very focused look on his face. One that told him that his brother was not fully there. He was pushing everything down to help Techno. Later. Later the reality of the situation would crash down on him.

But not now.

Tommy wished he could be that brave.

Instead, he reached the top of the stairs, opened the door, and slammed it shut, before collapsing onto his bed, burying his head into his pillow.

A small, rib shaking sob escaped his mouth. His mind was alive with images. Images of his older brother bleeding out in his car. Images of the blood all over his father’s shirt. All over his shirt. Images of how dead he looked. Laying there in the hospital, a breathing mask that did not quite fit him strapped to his face. Of, just a few minutes ago, of how much pain he had been in. The way his body shook with every movement. Of how his jaw was clenched shut, gritting his teeth together, and trying to make himself as small as possible. Like that would help him escape the pain.

Of how he had almost lost his big brother.

Tommy curled around his pillow, holding it tight to his body while he cried silent tears. Crying until he fell into a deep, restless sleep.

_He had almost lost his fucking big brother._

And the impulsive part of him wanted to kill whoever had made that happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never written from Tommy's perspective before, so this was very interesting. Hope I did him justice.
> 
> Parts of this are inspired by "on i go (move to move)" by Aenqa. Go read that one too, it is so very good. I have read it multiple times, and it is just amazing. They do a very good job and are a very good writer.
> 
> Enjoy your dose of hurt. Let's hope there is comfort in the future :)
> 
> Honestly, not the best chapter I have written, but fanfics help me relax and the only thing I'm not allowed to be a perfectionist at (because I will lose my sanity that way) so this is what we have. It's not the worst. But it could be better. Hope you all still enjoy it


	3. The Lonely King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to a "Small Break from Angst, featuring Eret and baby Techno."

Icy hot shivers ran down Techno’s skin. Fuzzy, static corrupting every part of his mind. He was floating in the middle of darkness, completely enveloped in its cold embrace. He had been on the edge of this place before. After hard battles, the darkness would beacon at him with the promise of relief from the tiring demand for blood that the people around him insisted that he provide.

The darkness would flirt with him after he had stumbled into his apartment, promising to take the pain away, to let him slip into an everlasting sleep, and never have to worry again. The darkness that he fought against every time he had to pinch himself awake, knowing that if he did fall asleep, he would bleed out in minutes.

And, in a way, it was as wonderful as she had promised. The Darkness had promised peace, and he was at peace. With nothing but expansive darkness all around him. No dreams, no thoughts. Just the nothingness of his mind.

But it was cold. And his mind grew bored. Not wanting to just be blank for the rest of eternity, he tried to remember who he was.

Well, that was easy.

He was Technoblade.

He is Technoblade.

Right, “is”.

What had he been doing before got here?

He had been….with his family.

What were their names again?

There was Phil, that was his father. An avian hybrid, with a warm smile, and blonde hair. 

Wilbur, his younger brother. Curly brown hair, always humming, strumming, or tapping on the things around him, with mischievous eyes, and personality. But kind in a way as well.

And Tommy, the youngest of the family. A loud, abrasive, kid who always found the need to say something at all times. And he looked up to his piglin brother.

Right. He was a piglin. Technoblade the piglin. A miracle, really. Playership was something that people were born with if their parents had been players. But he had been just a mob.

Techno remembered that day. As much as he did not want to. As much as he tried to make himself remember everything that happened before he had been adopted by Phil. Granted, he had been very young when put in the hybrids care, but there was still too much before to forget.

He remembered the lonely king, who had wandered into the Nether, in search of something good to do. A long royal cape flowing behind him, contrasting with the very casual gray t-shirt and jeans that he wore. The gleaming, rainbow-colored crown that sat on top of his mess of curls, proudly shining in the heat of the Nether.

The sunglasses that covered his pure white eyes.

And how fucking tall he had been.

Techno had not meant to wonder as far as he had from his bastion, but curiosity of this new person had been too great of a pull for him to just forget it. He had never seen someone in the Nether before, later learning that this was the king's server, just starting to get people to inhabit it, so no one had a chance to explore the hot biome.

The man walked with confidence. Dodging around the lava pools, climbing the netherrack mountains, gold always in his hands whenever he came across other piglins. Even with the language barrier, the king seemed to make some kind of connection to the mobs, exchanging the gold for other items that the piglings could care much less about.

Techno had approached the man, not fearing the way that his bow gleamed with enchantments, as he finished off a ghast. 

Staring up at the man with large, empty eyes. Before holding out his hands. He wanted gold too.

“What is it, little one?” the king asked, looking down at the little piglet, and the way that he held his hooves up to the man. “Is there something that I can do for you?”

His voice was deep and smooth. It made Techno feel safe in the oddest way.

Techno snorted, getting into his tippy toes and raising his hands higher.

“Are you asking for gold?” the king squatted down to his level, looking the baby piglin in the eyes. A soft smile across his face.

Techno pointed to the crown, before holding out his hands again. It would not be until years later would decipher what the man had said through replaying memories. He was a little surprised the king had ever taken an interest in him.

Nonetheless, the king laughed, ruffling his head, feeling the still soft baby fur that he had. Techno sunk into the touch. People in the bastion did not touch each other like this. They showed affection very rarely, the occasional nudge, or snout kiss. Nothing like this, where it was so direct.

“You’re a smart little guy aren't you?” the king asked, burying his fingers in Techno’s fur, scratching the very top of his head. Techno leaned into it, grabbing his wrist to make sure that the hand did not go anywhere.

The king laughed again. Techno decided that he liked the laugh.

Slowly, with careful telegraphed moments, the king started to reach down, grabbing Techno around the waist. When there was no protest, the piglet was lifted off of the ground, his little hooves dangling in the air, as the king sat down, twisting his legs into a criss-cross and setting Techno on his lap.

The king made a hand gesture, putting two fingers together, and lifting them up, before spreading them out. A gray, translucent bar appeared around the king, and the baby piglin as well by default of being so close. Little icons were organized into neat little boxes, some with little numbers on the bottom, and others with just a single tool.

There was a single bar at the bottom of the boxes that stood out from the rest, with thicker lines of translucent gray around them. A bigger display of boxes hung above that but seemed further away. The bottom one was full, while the top still had some empty boxes. 

One of the items caught his attention immediately. It was shiny. And golden. And Techno did not know human numbers at the time, but there had been a lot of them.

The king lifted a hand, and reached inside one of the boxes, his hand disappearing in the transparency. When he retracted it, there was a palm-sized apple in it. Shiny and golden.

The king waited a moment, looking down at Techno with the apple in his hand. With a small snort, the piglet opened his hooves.

The apple was placed in his palms.

It shimmered with power, and magic feeling almost alive in his hands. He could see his reflection in its smooth surface, his little pig nose, and ears that stood on either side of his head.

When he looked back up at the king, the gray boxes had been dismissed and the king had an apple in his own hand, biting into the soft surface, and munching away at the fruit.

Techno turned the apple over in his hooves for a moment. Before opening his mouth and letting it sink into the soft flesh of the fruit, taking back a sweet bite of it. It tasted like nothing he had ever eaten before. Warm and sweet, a shot of power seemed to surge over him and he felt strong. Stronger than normal.

He munched the rest of it down in no time, with the king taking much more time with his snack, leaning back on his arm as he ate.

“Oh little piglin I don’t know what I am doing,” the king said with a sigh. “I want to help people and yet, am I really able to do that? I mean look at me? Do you think that people would feel safe around me? Like I would be able to protect them.

“I got this place so I can keep people safe. I want to keep them safe, but….can I really do that? I am only in power now because I am king, but what happens when I start taking people in refuge? What if the wrong people come and they start to hurt people here?  
Will I be able to stop that?

“I’m not the best fighter in Hypixel, but I have authority. But who am I if that is taken away? Authority has to be upheld by something, and that something is power, right? Power and strength allow people to rule.”

Techno licked the sweet juice off of his hooves, having eaten the whole thing, core and all. Now he searched around his lap for another one, little snorts escaping his snout as he looked. Even lifting up his leg a little, like something could have escaped under.

“Here you are,” the king said, offering his half-eaten apple to the piglet.

Techno took the fruit and immediately started to eat.

“You are hungry aren't you?’ the king went back to burying his hand into the babyfur the piglin. “Such an odd little guy.”

The rest of the apple was gone in a second, and Techno licked his hooves again, his belly full of the sweet food. It was warm in the king's lap. Not hot like the rest of the Nether. Not the blistering heat that threatened to suffocate you at any point. It was safe.  
And warm like a hug. Something that you could fall asleep in and feel safe in.

It had been a long time since Techno had felt safe.

With a yawn, the piglet turned over in the king’s lap, curling up next to his chest. Taking a fist full of his shirt into Techno’s little hoove, and snuggling up close.

The king kept petting the baby piglin in a constant rhythm, watching as his beady eyes started to flutter closed, a soft smile on his lips.

He felt warm.

He felt safe.

That safely cradled him to sleep, an arm wrapping around him and pulling Techno closer to the warmth under him. This was good.

***

A slight shift woke him up. A gentle shake of the shoulder. Techno could feel his eyes slowly starting to open, still clenching the fabric under him. His body felt the most rested in a while. The energy that the shiny apples had given him had faded but replaced with actual, authentic strength, not artificial boosts of energy that curtain magics gave people.

“Good Morning little one,” the king said, having stopped shaking Techno’s shoulder when he saw his eyes were completely open.

Techno turned his head to look up at the king, resting his chin on the upper part of his chest, and snouting a ‘hello.’ 

The king laughed. Techno could feel it reverberate through the man’s chest, feeling so much closer to him than he had ever felt to anyone else. He wanted to stay there forever. Eat the sweet fruit and sleep safely. He could bring the king things he found around the Nether as payment. Anything, he could find it. As long as he got to stay.

“I have to go little one,” the hand returned to his head, “but thank you for your help. You may not know, or even understand what I am saying right now, but...you have helped.”

He looked out to the lava in front of them. They had been on a precipice of a cliff that led straight down to the deadly pools of lava for who knows how long. And yet it had still been the safest Techno had ever felt.

“People don’t respect power. They fear power. Especially when it is used against them. They fear those who crave power. They fear strength. So I must be respected. I have to earn their respect. Earn their trust. That is how I will protect and help them.

“And when I need their help, they will be willing to keep me in a place where I can keep them safe. We will help each other. No strict laws, only the ones that will help people, and not hurt others. I am only there to be a figurehead of sorts, make sure that everything runs smoothly, and when they need my help I will be there. Everything else they are free to do.

“Anarchy, with a little bit of a monarch sprinkled on. Does that make sense?”

Techno snorted again.

“I guess it is a little odd. But I can make it work. You’re a little odd and you make that work. And if I can make a baby piglin trust me, then I’m sure I can get others to as well.”

The king looked down at him again. The sunglasses still covered his eyes, but the softest of smiles on his face.

“You don’t belong here do you?” the king said, putting his hand on the piglet’s head again. “You’re much too smart to just be a mob.

“Actually, I think I know of a man who was looking for a son. He’s odd, like you. And me. A hybrid. I’m sure he would take you in.”

There was a beat of silence, as the king looked above him like he was calculating something.

“Yeah, that should work, but first….”

The king scooped the baby piglin up into his arms, before setting him down on his hooves. Kneeling before the piglet, putting both hands on his shoulders, looking into Techno’s dark dark chocolate eyes.

“I am going to have to make you a player. Now I don’t want to do this without your consent. And, since I don’t speak piglin, I am just going to broadcast what I am talking about into your mind. I won’t hurt, but give me a nod if this is what you want.”  
The king released one of his hands, reaching up, and taking off his glasses. Underneath were pure white eyes. Nothing else. No pupils or anything. Techno did not have time to be afraid before they locked eyes, and information was put into his brain.

It did not hurt.

It felt like a dream. Just more real. More tangible. Or obtainable.

Techno saw a world of color. Not just the reds and oranges of the Nether but the greens of a forest. Yellows of the sun. Blues of the sky.

People. People of all kinds, wearing all kinds of clothes. Some of them holding horns on their heads, others with tails, and others completely plain.

Swords. Fighting. Defeat but not in a life-threatening way. They both smiled, helping the other up, adjusting the white goggles on their head, while the other brushed off dirt on their hoodie.

A table filled with food. Lavish and pretty. As a little blonde-haired girl shared a tasty looking pastry with the king.

Laughing, like the kings. Deep and vibrating through the chest. Hugs and touch to show how much they cared.

Tears and pain of loss and remembrance of what they would never get back. A pain that would stay for the rest of their lives. One that they learned to smile through. One that they learned to live with.

Beautiful words that stretched high above their heads, reaching for the sky. Contraptions that work on their own. Sounds that made him feel alive.

This was what it was like to live. To be a player. They were the king’s memories and yet they were also the last one’s that Techno ever had as a mob, as a single question was pushed into his mind, the same kind of deep, smooth voice of the king:

“Is this what you want?”

A single tear ran down Techno’s face, as he gave a nod, his body feeling so far away. This was all he had ever wanted. This was what he was supposed to be doing. And he had to get there. No matter what.

That was the first soul ripping pain that Techno felt.

As the king grabbed onto what felt like his soul and made an incision. He was cutting something out.

Techno screamed at the pain, feeling his body collapse under its own weight. He wanted to curl up on himself, but something kept his chest upright. Kept him from falling over.

Another cut was made.

It felt like his very being was being taken apart piece by piece with a single cut.

The king pulled at the piece, carefully, cutting any residual pieces that needed to go.

Techno screamed again as the piece was taken out of him. A piece of him was gone. It was _gone_.

He needed it back. He needed it back _now_. He started to squeal, and scream, thrashing in the grip that kept him upright. He did not want it gone. He wanted to go back. This was bad. He was going to die.

_He was going to die._

Hot tears of pain streamed down his barely feeling body, as the pain had completely consumed him, unable to hold onto a single thought, a single word. All he knew was pain. Techno felt his eyes starting to roll back in his head, fighting to keep consciousness, but there was such a loud static ringing through his head that it was hard to even know what consciousness was.

That was until a voice spoke.

And he understood.

“I’m sorry little one, I know it hurts, but this needs to be done. I’m almost done, you are doing great.”

Deep and smooth. Cutting through the chaos of his mind like a sword. Giving him something, just _something_ that he could hold onto. Those words he clung to like a lifeline because that was all he had at the moment. No soul. No body. Just those words to know that he was still alive.

A hand grabbed onto what felt like his entire being, cupping it gently in a palm, before carefully situated something in the wound that had been cut out of it.

The cold edges of his being started to wrap around the new addition, desperate to fill what had been taken. It felt warm. Hot even. Alive. With passion. And the determination to live.

Slowly, the king took out a needle and started to stitch the new piece into his being, holding it steady to make sure that it got put in right.  
Techno whimpered every time the needles pierced, feeling a squeeze on his shoulder of his reassurance every time he did.

His shoulder.

His body.

It all felt so far away. But he had a body. It was being made new. A new piece was being put in, so it would suit him better. A way for him to experience those colors, and food, and touch, and comradery, all that it meant to be alive.

A gift.

One that had just finished getting stitched into his being.

And just like that, he was back. Back in his body. With tears streaming down his face, collapsed to his knees, the king's hand keeping him from falling over. The king himself looked tired. Hunched over and breathing heavily, power still buzzing around him.

“Maybe,” he started, lifting his head to look at the piglin “maybe we should have waited until we were somewhere safer to do that. Oh well.”

The king lifted his head, taking in a deep breath as he did. His forehead was shiny with sweat, deep bags under his eyes, and a shake in his hands that had definitely not been there before.

But he seemed happy.

Definitely tired. But happy.

“Welcome new player.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my head, Techno is about 4 years old when this happened, and that's still ~technically~ a baby, sooo....
> 
> Honestly was not expecting to write Eret in this series, but here he is. Giving Techno playership and doing important stuff I guess. I honestly really like Eret, I think he's a really cool guy, and so sweet. So this was a pretty good role for him.


	4. Burden to Fault

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back! With another chapter. I know last time I said that there was not going to be any angst, and that was ~kind of~ a lie, but I promise you, there is no Techno getting more hurt in this chapter. I promise :).

Techno felt himself slowly coming to consciousness. Slow, and sticky, like his mind was still trying to grasp onto the fact that he was alive and breathing. Sure it had been a few days since he had been bleeding out in his car, but not enough to forget the lingering pain of blood loss.

Slowly, he started to open his eyes, squinting with a still very present tiredness. He felt the exhaustion seep all through his body. His limbs were heavy and sunk into the bed under him like stones. His head felt like it was going to burst from how much of a headache was pounding around. Involuntary groaning as he started to finally see. There was a numb buzz through his entire being, which told him that the pain meds were still going through his system, still doing what they needed to. And now there was a fear that they would stop working. That he would feel the vines starting to creep up his limbs again, latching into his muscles painfully and started twisting, pulling his flesh apart from the inside. Techno did not want to go through that kind of pain again.

There was not a lot of light above him, which the piglin very much appreciated. Lights in hospitals were always too bright, and harsh. Combined with the white walls that would reflect the light, and it was a headache to wake up every day. Techno was glad to be out.

And back….in his childhood room?

At least, that was what it looked like. The lights were dimmed, and there were not a lot of decorations that he could see right away, but the layout was very familiar. Days of waking up at sunrise to go out and train for hours, until he was called by his father to help with some project or to tend to one of the farms. While he occasionally saw one of his brothers run by, checking in on what he was doing before running off and doing their own thing.

It had been peaceful back then. A kind of peace that Techno missed. The family dinners. The teasing. The little competitions that they all made together. The togetherness of it all, knowing that there was no way that anyone could interrupt or change that.

If Techno was being honest with himself, he was homesick for that.

The fighting was starting to take a toll on him. Not just on his, obviously, broken body, but on his mind as well. Sure it was nice to act like his instincts always screamed at him too, but it was starting to become too much. The noises. The voices of the crowds around him. Their demands for blood. His obligation to bend to those demands. The eyes that were on him at all times. The people who talked about him behind his back. The competitors who were upset about his success, and wanted to take their aggression out on someone. And what better person than the exhausted piglin in the locker room.

The way that no one believed him when he had taken it to his contractors. The way that he insisted that he had gotten those wounds from the fight when they all knew that the bruised ribs were from getting curb stomped and that had never happened in front of a live audience.

He was tired. 

“Oh, you’re awake,” A voice drew him from his thoughts.

Sitting beside his bed, hands holding his numb hooved one, was his father. Bucket hat still on his head, shoulders a little sunken from exhaustion, and eyes filled with sadness.  
There was no way to stop the little voice in the back of Techno’s mind that whispered “you did this. You made him this worried. If only you were strong enough to win those fights none of this would have happened.”

“Hey,” his voice felt dry. It scratched like he had been smoking for years, hurting from just how dry it was. It also felt raw from screaming. He wanted to ignore that part.

“Hold on, let’s get you some water,” Phil said, picking up a glass that was on his bedside table.

With the gentleness that only a father could display, Phil cradled a hand behind Techno’s head, lifting him so he could drink, steadying the cup with his other hand. The piglin did not want to admit it, but he knew he would have not been able to hold the glass steady on his own, and was grateful for the silent help that his father provided.

“How are you feeling?” Phil asked, after putting the cup back onto the bedside, and gently laying his son back down.

“Tired. Sore.”

“Are you in pain?”

Techno shook his head. And he was willing to do almost anything to keep it that way.

“Are you hungry?”

Yeah. Now that he thought about it, it did feel like there was a gaping hole in his stomach, and his mind started to switch gears towards food.

He nodded again, before starting to lift the covers off of himself.

“No no no,” his father was out of his chair in a second, laying out the cover again, and smoothing it out. “You need to stay here. I’ll get you something to eat, you need to conserve your energy.”

Techno was about to protest. That he was not a child anymore and could take care of himself. The sharp look from his father as soon as he opened his mouth made Techno snap his jaw shut. He knew much better than to argue with that face.

Instead, he nodded.

“Good,” and with that, Phil got up and started out of the room, leaving the door slightly open, letting the hallway lights spill in.

Techno signed, before laying his arm across his eyes. His mind was starting to become clearer, which he was immensely grateful for. Thoughts stopped being slippery, intangible things that escaped his mind. But started to pop up in his head with ease.

His first thought was more of an emotion. Shame. Embarrassment. 

He did not remember much about the walk home. A lot of it felt chopped up. A blink of an eye and he would be in a different place. All of this was heavily coated with pain and the lack of control over his body. Being held up by the arms of his family as they dragged him home as gently as they could.

But there was one thing that he did remember.

There was one thing that stood very prominently in his mind.

The eyes. The people who stared at him as they walked by. The pictures that were taken. The snickers still echoed through his ears.

His heart sunk at the prospect of this being something that he had to deal with. And it was not like he could just blame it on another piglin. Because what other piglins were there?

His boss was going to be displeased at best. Fucking livid at worse. And, from the few interactions that Techno had had with the man, he was pretty sure which side he was going to get.

Which brought him to the next point: Where was his phone?

A part of him was glad that it was gone, since he had missed the last two fights, being stuck in the hospital and all, and could only imagine the wall of missed texts, calls, and emails that would welcome him back into the world of a career.

There was a faint _clinking_ of pot and pans together from down the hall. A soft pad of socked feet started to cautiously make its way down the hall, and to his room. The tall lanky figure of Tommy poked his head into the room, blocking some of the light, creating an odd silhouette.

“Hey bitch.”

Really what was he expecting from his youngest brother?

Techno snickered, before starting to shift, moving so he could sit upright. The thought of talking to someone while he was laying down made him sick. He already felt vulnerable as it, and laying down while someone towered over him, weak and helplessly lying there….

Yeah needed to sit up.

A small spark of pain danced across his wounds as he started to move, grunting as he tried to shift back in the bed.

“Techno wait,” Tommy was next to him in a second, grabbing onto his arm, and supporting him. “Don’t move, you’re wounds….”

“I’m just trying to sit up Tommy,” Techno gasped, “I’m not made of glass. I can still move.”

Tommy pressed his lips together. Locking eyes with his big brother for a second, before he started to help, moving the pillow out of the way, creating a place for him to lean back on the backboard of the bed, and taking a lot of Techno’s weight as he moved.

It was ten seconds of movement. He was not even walking anywhere.

And that just made the shame burn deeper in him as he leaned his head back onto the backboard, breathing heavily, and trying to catch his breath.

Catch his breath from what? Moving literally ten inches?

“How are you feeling, big guy?”

If there was something that Techno hated about this whole situation. The feeling of being so exposed. The being a burden on his family when he had tried so hard not to be. The hospitals, the almost guaranteed headache that he was going to get from work, hearing how Tommy was trying to choke back tears was the worst thing. That was just….heartbreaking.

“Tired,” he replied, sighing. “Sore.”

“Yeah, getting cut open like a fish will do that wouldn’t it?”

Techno did not respond. Just looking down at his hands as he fidgeted with them in his lap.

He had been cut open like a fish, hadn’t he? God, not even skilled enough to keep himself safe in a battle. If any of the bandages that he could feel so clearly wrapped around him said anything, it was that he had failed. Failed as a fighter. Failed to not be a burden to his family. Failed to keep his brothers and father happy. Because here they were, forcing back tears and talking in soft voices to him, asking him if he was ok. It should have been the other way around. It had always been the other way around. When they were kids and did missions for their father, or explored the server, he had always been there. He had always protected them. He had patched up their wounds with mild annoyance, before asking if they could walk.

This all was just….wrong.

“I made a friend….” Tommy said.

“Really?” Techno’s ears perked up, looking at his brother, with the same kind of annoyed, but mildly interested tone.

“Yeah,” defensive tone. Just like old times. “His name is Tubbo. And he’s a hybrid.”

“What kind?”

“Ram. And he likes bees.”

“Where did you two meet?”

“Well, ok, hah, don’t tell dad, but I had snuck out one day, you know how it is, a little teenage rebellion is good for the heart. And, the server where I go to school, called Wompolia, which is like two letters away from being Woman-polia if you ask me. And there’s this abandoned building that I really wanted to check out, so I packed a bag and….”

And he was off, talking about this grand adventure of how he met a ram hybrid while he had been climbing around, finding him on top of the roof, just staring at the sky, which, according to Tommy was “a little weird, but he’s a weird guy.”

Techno settled in, letting himself relax as he listened to Tommy’s story. A painful tug on his heart persisting through the story. He had missed this. He had missed the boy's ramblings and stories about this, that, and the other. The way he would just go on his little tangents, before coming back to what he had been saying. Or completely forget what he had been saying and keep going with the tangent.

He had been gone and working for almost a year now, rarely visiting his family, because his work kept him so busy. He barely had time to say “hi” to the neighbor that lived next door, much less try to make friends. Hell, he barely had time to sleep. It was not until now that he realized how much he missed his family. Like actually missed them. Their little quirks, and things that they did.

Like the way that Tommy would try to fluff his hair while he talked.

The way the Wilbur would tap on things subconsciously, occasionally gasping in epiphany when he found a rhythm he had been looking for.

The way that Phil would laugh. In general. At everything, even if it was not that funny.

He missed them. A lot.

And the stubborn part of him knew that he would never admit it.

“--nd so we had to run all the way back to where the exit was, basically diving into them, because we were just scared shit-less, and the entire time I was thinking ‘what big brain million IQ play would Techno pull now?’ And then I remembered I am smarter than you, and just keep runnin’. And we just kept going until we got back to where Tubbo lived. It was the craziest adventure I’ve ever had.”

“Sounds like Tubbo is a good friend.”

“He is. And I tell him all the time, ‘better watch out, I’m the brother of Technoblade, I’m crazy. There’s no telling what I’ll do’---”

Ah yes. The lines that he has heard so many times before. ‘He’s a piglin!’, ‘He’s crazy!’, ‘There’s no telling what he might do!’ Techno had heard those lines so many times before he started a fight they were honestly starting to make him sick. He would like to think that he was a reasonable person. That he was not just going to attack anyone he had a disagreement with. That he had some control over his instincts on what to fight.

But, sometimes, the crowd was too loud. Thousands of voices, watching and chanting his name. “Blood for the Blood God.” Sometimes it felt like those voices were in his head, separate from his own thoughts that he had. Demanding blood. Egging and encouraging him to be violent.

And sometimes, just sometimes, he lost himself a little too much in his instincts than he would like to admit.

Most of the time he was able to pull himself back. To stop himself before he did any actual damage that would persist after a respawn.

But there had been one time….

He did not like to think about that time.

“Hey, big guy, anyone home?” Tommy said, almost directly into his ear, waving a hand in front of his face.

Techno blinked out of his thoughts. Had there been a question? He missed it.

“Sorry, what were you saying,” he rubbed a hand down his face, pulling at the skin to try to keep himself focused.

“No, it’s ok you just spaced out for a second.” There was the worry in his tone again. Guilt started to playfully strangle Techno. “But it is ok! You are a concussed pigman, so I supposed it is to be expected.”

“Yes he does have a concussion,” a new voice said, with a light knock on his open door. Phil stood in the doorway, his wings making a much more intense silhouette than Tommy had. He held a plate and bowl in his hands. “So he’s going to need rest.”

“I am resting! Do you see me moving?”

Phil gave him a pointed look. But said nothing more and placed the plate and bowl on his bedside table.

“Toast with butter, and some tomato soup. We’ll keep it bland and light for now, and see how your stomach reacts.”

Honestly, Techno did not care what he had been given. It’s not like he ate super healthy when he had been living on his own. It just smelled so good. The gaping hole in his stomach became very prominent, immediately muttering a thanks before starting to eat.

“After you’re done, try to get some sleep,” Phil said, “the more rest you get, the faster your recovery is going to be.”

Techno gave a shallow nod, still completely focused on the food before him.

He could basically hear Phil smiling.

“Let us know if there is anything that you need.”

“Wait,” Techno stopped them. “Do you know where my phone is?”

There was a pause, as Phil pursed his lips together.

“I don’t think that it would be a very good idea to look at a screen right now. You have a concussion, and the blue light can just make the headache worse….”

“I just need to check something.” Yikes. That almost sounded like begging. Then again, it was his father, and the man was just trying to give him a smooth recovery. But there was no avoiding work. He would have to face it eventually, and now was better than never.

“Alright,” Phil said, “I’ll go get it for you. But don’t be on it for too long. I can make your headache worse.”

Techno nodded, returning to his soup.

“Come on Tommy.”

“Get better big man,” Tommy said, before slowly making his exit, casting a few worried looks behind him, that Techno chose to ignore.

Phil was back a few minutes later, collecting the empty plates, since Techno and wolfed down everything, and handed him his phone and charger. After another reminder to not use it too much, the man left, closing his door behind him.

Alone.

Techno leaned his head back, on the backboard of his bed, and sighed. He was not looking forward to the next conversation.

Plugging in the phone, the screen came alive with a bright, blinding light.

One that immediately made his head pound, and Techno almost threw the device across the room. He groaned, digging the heel of his palms into his eyes, trying to subside the throbbing that was echoing through his head. Yeah, ok, maybe Phil had been right. Just a few minutes, it would not take very long.

By the time he was able to get his headache to a dull throb, his phone was changed enough that he could at least lower the brightness.

Sure enough, just as he predicted. There was a wall of call after call, message after message, email after email that was just an endless scroll on his phone. Dread settled itself into the walls of his throat, as Techno gulped and started to look at who had needed him while he had been at work.

Most of them were predictable. Manager. Producers. Mostly his manager. If the man could even be called that. A few from the CEO. Those sent a bolt of anxiety down his throat. Even one from Dream. Just one, but that was enough to know that the speedrunner was thinking about him.

And hundreds, literal hundreds from a person he had completely forgotten about. A woman that he made almost jump in bed, and then scramble for the call button, not quite moving as fast as he wanted to.

As much as he was scared of his managers, there was only one other person that brought him close to the same kind of fear that an angry Phil struck in him.

And that was an angry Niki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Local piglin warrior, who can most definitely crush a man's spine with his hands, gets scared by local pink-haired lady, more at 9.


	5. Phone Calls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how YouTubers and streamers don't make any money in January? It's like that for fanfic readers, but it's in February and with new chapters.
> 
> College be hard yo.
> 
> The beginning of this is a memory.

Techno shifted the groceries that he was holding onto, trying to balance them on his forearms, while he dug into his pants pocket, trying to fish out his keys. Grocery shopping was something that he often neglected, mostly because he did not have time. Work kept him busy most of the time that cooking seemed like the most impossible task to do when he got back. The only thing that he wanted to do is wash the grime and blood out of his fur, and flop into his lumpy bed.

That and he really hated the stares. The stares that looked him up and down, sizing him up. Either out of recognition, often young people, or men, staring in awe as a person who had been on TV shopped like a normal person, like he just gained the ability to not eat by becoming famous. Or mothers who steered their children clear of the large piglin, keeping a wary eye on him as they did so, while he compared the prices of pasta

Everyone looked at him with fear.

More often than not, he would go shopping when he was tired of his shelves being completely bare, and fast food was starting to taste bad on his tongue. The paychecks he got for the fights were enough to cover his rent, and buy food, but that was basically it. He was pretty much-living paycheck to paycheck, despite how famous he was. And it was not like his coworkers were willing to compare pay to make sure that everyone was getting treated fairly, they barely tolerated his presence. And even if he was to go to the managers and above to demand more, it would turn out the same as when he went to them when he had started to get harassed.

And Techno knew that he could not handle all of the eyes that had been on him. Judging. The walls had closed in too fast, and he felt like he could not breathe. It had all been too much. To the point where he had to splash water on his face to try to hold off a panic attack until he was back safe in his apartment.

That had been one of the many times he had been tempted to call his father. To sob into the phone, begging the avian hybrid to come to the city and take him back to the private server his father owned. He never ended up doing it, but his fingers itched for the phone all through that night.

Techno shifted the groceries again, climbing in the stairs with ease.

Well, mostly ease. He was going to sell himself the lie that it was with ease.

The wounds that were starting to collect more and more on his body were proving to be a nuisance. His shirt rubbed against the bandages on his shoulder in an annoying way, irritating the edges of the wound. He could clearly see the toll that his current schedule was taking on him. It was not like it was hard to see. How his head swam a little when he stood up. The slight shake in his hands that he had to quell before stepping out into the ring. The scars that were quickly spreading on his skin. Sure he had scars before. It’s not like he lived a risk-free life on Phil’s server, more often than not, he would go out looking for trouble and fighting various mods and monsters. And the scars he collected were proof of that.

But it was getting to the point where he had started wearing long sleeves because of the scars. Not because he was ashamed of them. But because the pain feeling was too fresh in his mind. Every day was a new fight. Every day was a new tournament. By the time he had wrapped his old wounds, it was time to go out and get more.

There was not enough time to heal. Physically, but more mentally. Every time Techno looked at his scars, the remembrance of getting them was still fresh in his mind. The adrenaline pumping through his veins, as he desperately tried to keep his piglin rages under control. Fighting against his opponent, while also fighting with himself. And the fact that he felt like he was being pulled thin every day was not helping.

So it was easier to just cover up the scars with clothes, and keep on his normal day. There was not much that he could do for his face. A few scars dragging across his checks and snout, with one part of his right ear completely chewed. Mostly old scars, from when he had been still training.

But there was one. One that he desperately wanted to cover up, but knew that there was no way to do that. It was small, barely even noticeable. But it stood out every time he looked at it. A small little scar on his left cheek, parallel to his snout. It was small. Having taken less than two days to heal.

And yet it was the scar that burned him the most.

It was when someone had gotten a lucky swipe on him. He had not been paying attention. And they got lucky. It would have not been bad if he had gotten it in the ring, where they were evenly put against each other. It hurt more knowing that it had happened in the locker room. Techno had been tired. But that was no excuse.

One moment he was passing someone, the only thing in his thoughts being that he wanted to go home and go to bed. The next there was a burning feeling on his face, the very top of his skin was on fire, and a thin trail of blood was pouring down his face. The glint of a blade in his peripheral, and the suffocating sound of people laughing at him. A snide comment on how “you should have been paying more attention, freak.” Being too tired to feel anything other than burning rage, and exhaustion, that Techno had no other choice but to walk right out of the building. The numb feeling that filled his ears as he drove home. The feeling of defeat as he sobbed his eyes out, taking care of all of the wounds he had gotten that day.

Techno did not like that scar.

He shifted the groceries again, trying to reach around his body and get his keys out of his back pocket, but it was proving a lot more difficult than he had been originally thought.  
Sure he could just set down the bags, but that would take way too much time, and he did not think of that.

His mind started to drift, eyes on the ground, as he tried to balance everything. Not really paying attention to the world around him. He opened the door that exited the stairwell and entered into his hallway, when something collided with him, at what felt like full speed.

Slamming into his torso, and making all of the bags tumble to the ground, just slipping out of his grip.

The piglin immediately perked up his ear, looking around, hands balled into fists, as he looked. Adrenaline sparked alive, ready for a fight.

Until he heard a groan from under him.

His eyes snapped in front of him to find…

A boy. Lanky and tall, with a gray t-shirt on, with a blue button-down over that, sleeves rolled up, and the middle open. Dark gray pants, with bracelets and rings on his wrists and hands. A head of two-toned hair, black and white right down the middle, with his face to match. His mouth grimaced in pain, but Techno could just see the two little fangs that were created by his lips, poking over his bottom lip. No nose to frame the rest of his face, just two black eyes, and purple particles that floated off of his body every once in a while.

“Oh Ranboo!” a voice said from up the hall. A pink-haired lady came jogging down. High waisted pants jeans, with a striped crop top, and a long-sleeved white shirt under that, almost sliding to a stop next to the fallen boy.

Techno had frozen.

Completely. His joints, limbs, everything had locked up as his eyes did not leave the scene in front of him.

He had screwed up. He had not been paying attention. And now he was going to get yelled at. It did not matter that it was an accident, look at him? They were going to be scared of him, run away with their heads down, whispering about how much of a freak he was. A wild animal that should be locked up. Techno knew that he should be used to it by now. That this should be normal. And yet he did not want to deal with that. He had already had to deal with people at the store, and his skin was crawling with anxiety.

“I’m ok,” the boy said. At least that was what Techno assumed. His eyes were locked on the ground. Hoping, praying that he would get off with a little less of an interaction if he did not make eye contact. “Sorry, I was not looking where I was going.”

Techno’s heart almost stopped.

Skipping a beat.

His head snapped up, with nothing but wondrous disbelief in his dark chocolate eyes. He was getting an apology?

“I-” Techno started, his voice getting choked on the huge lump in his throat. He swallowed it down, trying to stop the shake in his hands, before kneeling down and starting to put up the scattered groceries. “It’s alright.”

“Here, let us help,” the women said. Her smooth, slightly accented voice brought way too much comfort to Techno as the two started to gather his food, and place them back into bags. He did not make eye contact.

“Really, I am sorry,” the boy said again, his voice shaking.

“It’s ok,” Techno replied in the softest voice he could muster. He did not need this kid to think that this was his fault, Techno was just as much at fault. It just had not been a good day.

“We’re new to the building,” the girl said, opening the bag for him to place a few stocks of corn into, “Number 435.”

“I’m from 434.”

“We’re across the hall from each other. Oh…”

The girl's voice trailed off as she picked up a carton of eggs, the broken yolks and whites already starting to seep into the cardboard. Techno has gotten two dozen eggs. They were the best thing that gave him the protein that he so desperately needed. More often than not he did not have enough protein in his diet. And he did not want to go back to the store.

Techno flicked his gaze up for a moment, catching a glimpse of the girl's expression. She was thinking. While the boy, Ranboo, looked to the ground in embarrassment.

Could Techno really be mad at the kid?

“It’s ok,” Techno said, carrying on picking up the groceries. “Eggs are kind of gross anyway.”

“How about we have you over for dinner?” the girl suggested. Techno’s head snapped up, looking at her eyes for the first time. She was inviting him somewhere? Into her home no less? Why? Was she not scared of him? “To make up for it.”

Techno snapped his jaw shut, only then realizing that it had been hanging open.

“N-no, it’s really ok.”

“I insist. We’re having spaghetti and meatballs, I hope that’s ok.”

“Yeah-yeah that’s fine, but….”

“Great! Come by at like 6 and we’ll be all ready. I hope you don’t mind a bit of a mess, we just moved in, and only about half of the place is set up.”

Techno stammered a few more symbols, before shutting his snout again, and just nodding. Much less embarrassing.

“I’m Niki by the way,” she said, standing up, and starting to load his arms with groceries. “And this is my little brother, Ranboo.”

Ranboo gave a little wave, from behind Niki. He was hunched over himself, kind of curling up on himself. Which was odd to see, because he was so much taller than his sister, and yet he stood behind her.

Techno knew used to do the same thing with his father. When he started to grow as a teenager, he had grown fast. He was still very tall, towering over Phil, and his other brothers, but it started when he was a teen. That was when his anxiety had gotten worse. So most of the time, when he was uncomfortable about a situation, he would stand behind his father, and hide, even when he was taller than the man.

He gave a tired smile, fishing out the keys from his pocket, giving the duo a little smile.

“Technoblade Minecraft,” he said, “You can call me Techno for short.”

“I look forward to tonight Techno,” Niki said, as the pair made their way to the stairwell.

“Bye,” Ranboo said, before following his sister.

Techno gave a little wave, smiling to himself. It was nice to not be feared. The anxiety that had wormed his way around his lungs started to loosen, letting him breathe again.

Maybe he could make friends.

***

The memory faded a little, as Techno came back to the dilemma at hand: actually calling Niki. Ever since that night, he had gotten closer to the siblings. Going over to their house for dinner at least once a week, even having them over at his place every once in a while when he got off work early, and they were up late.

Ranboo was a shy kid, but very sweet, always willing to help others, and very observant of others. And Niki had a heart of gold, oftentimes knocking on his door when she heard a particularly hard crash from behind his door.

They had become his second family, gods knowing that there was no way that he could replace his actual family. He wanted them to meet his real family, knowing that they would all get along well, but they never had the time.

He never had the time.

They would often check up on him. Especially after Niki had burst into his apartment, the door not being locked, and found him passed out under his dining table.

She had made it a habit of checking up on him after every fight. Every night he would expect her to knock, or call, or even wait in front of his door for the broken and bruised piglin to drag his body back home. Sometimes she would even have a Tupperware of something that she made for him when she thought that he had been eating too much fast food.

Slowly, Ranboo started to tag along, sometimes just being him if Niki was busy. When it was just the enderman hybrid, Techno would patch himself up, and just let Ranboo talk about whatever he wanted, distracting him while he poured disinfectant into the wounds. While Niki would insist on patching him up herself, making the bandages neat and tight, smearing some kind of cream that was meant to help them heal.

She also always urged him to call his father. To call his family, and let them know what was going on. Almost every day she would bring it up.  
Niki would also bring up every day the fact that his body would give out. That he was flirting with disaster, and he would lose. Eventually, his muscles were going to give out, and it was not going to be good.

Every time he assured her that there was nothing to worry about.

And his three days of silence was definitely not helping his case.

Techno gnawing at the very tips of his fingers, while looking at the call button. It was better to call her now, rather than later.

With a deep breath, mustering up a very small piece of courage, he hit the call button, holding the phone to his ear, waiting for a certain pink-haired girl to pick up the other end.

It was after four or five rings were Techno felt like he was going to have to call back, when the line was picked up and---

“Technoblade!” Niki shouted into the phone. He pulled it away from his ear with a low whine, rubbing the space in between his eyes trying to bring the headache back down. God having a concussion was a pain.

“Hello Niki,” he almost groaned. The pounding was putting way too much pressure behind his eyes.

“Where have you been? I have been so worried! You looked so bad after your last fight, and then you did not come home. I thought ‘oh, maybe he went to his dad’s, but I should call him just in case,’ and you did not pick up. It’s been three days! I was worried sick! I even went into your work, and no one had seen you there either!”

“Yeah,” Techno rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. This was going to be an interesting conversation. “I was actually….in the hospital.”

There was a beat of silence.

“You were where?!”

“Niki, ugh, ok it’s not as bad as it seems.”

“Being in the hospital for three days is not bad?”

“Ok well, when you say it like that it sounds bad….”

Silence. Again. There was a lump in Techno’s throat that he could not swallow down. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry, but that did not seem like enough. But it was a good place to start.

“Niki….”

“You really worried me Techno. Ranboo too. We’ve been searching for days.”

Techno shrunk in on himself, curling up a little in embarrassment. He had screwed up. That much was very clear. He could hear how Niki was trying to hold back tears even over the phone. Her quiet and muffled sniffles. He could only imagine her rubbing the tears out of her face, trying to be strong for her younger brother.

“Niki, I really, really am sorry. I didn't mean to worry you so much. I just….things got out of hand, and everything was moving too fast, and….I’m sorry.”

He heard Niki sigh from the other side of the phone, cringing a little at the sound. His ears were flat against his skull, fidgeting with the blankets that were bunched up on his lap, trying to not let the guilt consume him.

“Where are you now?” Niki asked. She sounded so tired.

Keeping the guilt at bay became much harder with that question.

“I’m at my dad’s” Techno’s voice was almost a whisper, while still maintaining the gravelly monotone that it naturally had. But he still felt weak. He still sounded weak. “I got out of the hospital yesterday.”

“I’m coming to see you.”

“Niki, you don’t have to….”

“I’m going to come see you.”

He snapped his jaw shut. He knew that tone. It was when he knew not to argue. There was nothing that was going to change her mind. He just hoped that he did not look as bad as he felt because he did not want to worry her further.

There was some muttering on Niki’s side. Even with his better hearing piglin ears, Techno could not quite make out what they were saying. But he could pick up on the slightly distorted, deep voice of Niki’s little brother, Ranboo.

“Ranboo wants to talk to you,” Niki said, more shuffling happening, “tell you, dad, to give us access to his server, we’ll be over within the hour.”

Techno gave a silent nod, knowing that Niki knew him well enough to know what he had done.

“Hello?” the tired, exhausted voice of Ranboo echoed through his head, as he was sure the kid had been sleeping. Guilt started to bury deeper into his chest. He had worried them.

“Hey, Ranboo.”

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” the lie did not feel like a lie. Deep down he knew it was not true. He had been in the hospital for god’s sake, of course, he was not ok. But he had spent so long saying those words, convincing himself that he was ok, that the exhaustion that felt so deep within his soul was normal that there was not nearly enough guilt as there should have been because of the lie.

“I was worried.”

“Sorry, Ranboo. Things kind of got out of hand.”

“But we’re going to come see you. And we can make something to bring, and make sure that you’re ok.”

Techno wanted to cry. What had he done to deserve the kindness that he was shown? Instead, he rubbed his eyes and cleared his throat. Must be the pain meds screwing with his head.

“I got to go get ready, but we’ll be over as fast as we can,” Ranboo said in a hurry.

“Right, yeah. Well, I’ll be here.”

There was a soft mumble of ‘goodbyes’ before a click. They were going to be here soon. Niki was determined at best, and forceful at worst. If she said that something was going to get done, it was going to get done.

Techno did not want to think about how there they were basically going to double the number of people looking after him and set his sights on the next task at hand: calling his boss.

Fuck.

Maybe he should have saved calling Niki for last, so he could at least feel good after that conversation. Because this was not one that he was going to enjoy having.

With a harsh swallow, he pressed on the contact of his manager, and put the phone to his ear, balling his fists around the blanket. His shoulders burned with wanting to feel someone wrap their arms around him.

There were only two rings before the other line picked up.

“Technoblade!” he flinched at the tone. Jones D. Henswort was not someone who was often soft about things. “Where have you been? It’s been three days. You have to request time off, and you just disappeared. We’ve been trying to get in contact with you for days. Do you know the amount of work that you have made me do? Do you! You have cost us so much money, many investors are threatening to pull their funds, and they are demanding you. Where are you? I’ll come pick you up. There is a fight that is tonight, we can get you in, and get the views back up.”

“I-I….”

“Give me your location. Come on, hurry up, you need to fix the mess that you made.”

“....I can’t come in,” Techno hated how small his voice was.

“What? Why?”

“Because I was in the hospital.”

“Why were you in the hospital? You did not get hurt that bad. Piglin endurance and such. We need you out here.”

“I-I can’t.”

“Why? Give me one good reason why you can’t come in?”

Techno swallowed hard. The words were getting stuck in his throat. Tears were starting to burn behind his eyes, threatening to come forward. His chest felt so tight.

“Well?” Jones’ voice was full of venom and impatience. Techno hated it.

“Because I’m still hurt. I’m in recovery.”

“Oh my god,” Jones’ sighed. Techno could only imagine the man running his hand through his dark, slick back hair, before running the hand down his face out of frustration. “You such a pain in the ass to manage you know that. What? You're just going to lie there and get lazy, fat, and weak. God, this is going to screw with all of the views. The investors are not going to be happy. We already have a cover story but, oh god it’s going to take one hell of a come back to get revenue back up.”

His words felt like poison. Wiggling into his brain, and disturbing his mind.

Techno did not want to be sitting anymore. He needed to get up. He needed to be not lazy. He needed to stand up. He needed to.

“Ok, you have a week to get better, then we are going to need you back.”

A week.

A week! That was not enough time. Techno knew that was not enough time. Sure he would be better, but nowhere close to perfect, and he would still be weak, most of his energy being put into healing. Even if he did nothing but sleep and eat, there was no way he could get his body back into a shape where he could perform in a way that they wanted.

“That’s not enough time.”

“Well, it’s what you get.”

“Please, just a little more. I….I….”

“Oh my god, what are you, five? Don’t cry. Big fucking baby. Big piglin like you, why are you acting like that?”

Techno shrank even tighter on himself, all of his skin awake with the need to be touched. To be held. To be told everything was going to be ok. He needed to stand up.

There was a sigh across the line.

“Ok, you can have a week and a half, but that’s all the time I can give you. After that you are going to need to come back, or we are going to have to void your contract.”

“No!” that could not happen. That was the last thing that Techno was going to let happen. He needed to keep this job. He needed it. “I can be back in a week and a half, that’s fine.  
I’ll be back and ready to go by then. Don’t worry.”

“Good. Now I’m going to go make this less of a mess. Call me when you get here, and be ready to fight that day. I’ll see you later.”

And like that the line went dead.

Techno did not get a moment to think, as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, trying not to wince at the disturbed wounds. He started to slide down onto his hooves, gripping the top of his backboard as he went, white-knuckling the wood. He needed to stand. He needed to get up.

About half of his weight was on his hooves, and they were already starting to shake. He clenched his teeth together, breathing coming out as gasps as the wound on his legs was starting to act up.

He pushed himself off of the bed, landing squarely on his hooves, and feeling his entire lower half feel like jello. He gripped the backboard for support, desperately clinging to it. If he fell, there was no way he was going to get up. And that could not happen. There was no way he was going to let his family find him crumpled on the floor.

Slowly, Techno started to straighten his spine, standing up all the way. His legs shook violently under him, but there was a smile on his face.  
He was standing. He had done it.

A wave of lightheadedness forced him to barely catch the edge of the bed, and pull himself into a sitting position. Panting, while he hunched over himself.

A week and a half. That was all he had. It was nowhere near enough time, he knew that. But he was grateful regardless, in some kind of screwed up way.

A week and a half where he did not need to worry about work, or the stares, or the audiences demanding more blood from him, or the barely keeping himself under control when he was in the ring.

A week and a half of being around his father and brothers, and neighbors.

Yeah, he should be grateful for this. Any more and he would get rusty. He should just enjoy the time he had.

And ignore the dreadful feeling that was starting to settle deep in his gut. Going back so soon is a bad idea. But he could think about that later.

For now, he let himself be proud that he had stood up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter, Ranboo and Niki! The power sibling duo. Also, enter Techno's manager. What a nice guy? I'm sure he had Techno's wellbeing in mind at all times. Yep, those are defiantly the vibes I get from that man. Nothing greedy or exploiting about him.
> 
> Chapters are going to be a little slower because of the school, but I will at least try to post one chapter per week. That might not hold up, but I will try to make it happen.
> 
> Take care of yourselves, ya'll's.


	6. Anger of a Brother, Father, Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> College student has zero self control and writes new chapters for both of their stories in two days, more news at 9.

Wilbur was angry. Angrier than he had been in a while. It was not even anger that he could let explode around him. The type of anger that was short-lived and aggressive, that would explode out of his chest like a tyrant of emotions, before he came down from the high. Sitting in his room alone, until Phil came in half an hour later to let his son cry on his shoulder. That type of anger he could handle, it was a kind he was used to. It was loud but short. He could take deep breaths and let it dissipate within him before he said something he did not mean. And even if it did come out, he could apologize for it later.

But this type of anger. It was slow and festering. It was quiet. Slowly building in his chest, while he kept quiet and to himself. It was a more dangerous type of anger.

It’s the type of anger that drove him to play all of the reruns of Techno’s fights, taking notes of every hit he took. Looking up all of his opponents, the agencies that they worked for, the managers that they had. Making a list.

Wil was not sure what he was going to do with the list that was steadily growing on his desktop, but if he had his way, it was nothing pretty.

The fights played out in front of him, alone in his darkroom, with the only light coming from the screen. Watching as his brother expertly used his weapon, twisting it around and slicing down on the opponent. The red of his piglin instincts edging around his dark chocolate eyes, as Techno gritting his teeth together.

Wilbur skipped ahead a little. It looked like his brother had not gotten hurt in this fight, at least nothing that would warrant him writing down a name. It made sense, this was towards the beginning of his career. When he was still using flashy, big moves on the battlefield.

His most recent fights were more quick, and effective, only using as much energy as he needed to use to bring down his opponent, and nothing more. Holding panting breaths inside of his chest as soon as the fight was over, trying to stand as tall as he could before a crowd that demanded blood and violence. Cakey makeup dripping down his face by the end of it, desperately trying to cover up the bags under his eyes. Dragging his tired body to the exit of the ring.

The replays played themselves in Wilbur’s head almost as much as they did in front of his face.

Anything to chase the memory of Techno in that car. Blood pooling under him. He almost looked asleep. Part of Wilbur wanted to believe that he had just been asleep. Curled up in the car, like they had been when they were little. The occasional time Phil had taken them to a large city, coming back from some event. The memories were so fresh, they felt like they had happened yesterday. Curled up around Tommy, tucked in the space between the two older brothers. Techno’s soft breathing out of his snout as they slept. Soft and peaceful as music played in the undertones of the car. Wilbur dodged in the place between sleep, wanting to see the lights of the world around him, but also it was so warm, and feeling his brother's arms around him felt so safe.

That was the memory that Wilbur did not want to remember. Not the face that Techno had looked so pale. Not the fact that he had been heavy to carry to the car, completely limp, and deadweight. Not the occasional slurred together word that escaped him as he was jostled. Not the complete shock and fear in Tommy’s face. Not the hyperfocus of Phil’s. Not the way that his hands shook as they took his brother away on a bed, adjusting a mask to fit over his snout, while a few of the doctors, still, sneered at the man they were charged to take care of. He did not want to remember Tommy sleeping on his shoulder, body tense with anxiety. Or the way that the hospital smelled. Or any of the people there. Not the way that Techno had laid on the bed, almost completely still. Dark bags under his eyes, barely any energy to lift his arms. The dull sleepy eyes of his brother looking back at him. The way he had whimpered in pain because of being moved. His big strong piglin brother weakly sits in a wheelchair.

It was easier to place the blame on someone else than remember those things. So that’s what Wilbur did.

So he was obsessive. Making a list of all of the people whose fault it was that his brother was hurt. That was easier than going down and seeing his hurt brother, seeing him in such a state. It was easier than watching someone he cared about so much be in pain, knowing that there was nothing that he could do about that.

Being angry was easier than being sad.

There was a soft knock on the door. It tested at Wil’s nerves, gripping his hands tightly together, before giving a soft noise of confirmation that the person could come in.

The light from the hallway poured into the, obscured heavily by the silhouette of his father, standing in the doorway, large feathered wings framing either side of him. Baggy clothes covered most of his skin, a green cardigan flowing around a grey t-shirt and baggy green sweatpants. It would have made Wilbur feel comforted to see the familiar bucket hat if he was not so angry at everything. Instead, he turned sharply away from his father, almost huffing and crossing his arms, before he stopped himself, not wanting to seem more like a child than the way that he was already acting.

“Wil?”

“What?”

There was a soft padding of bare feet against the wood floors before a door was clicked shut.

“Is everything alright?”

The loud anger started to well in his chest. Aggressive, and hurt, and oh so angry.

“Fine.”

There was a beat of silence.

“You have been up here since we got Techno back from the hospital. And you seemed on edge since we were in the hospital, so I wanted to make sure that you’re ok. I know that this is tough on all of us….”

“Tough? Tough! Is that what we are going to call it. Tough? He almost died. In Tommy’s arms, he almost died. We were watching him die. And he still….still….”

The anger dissipated. It left too fast. No! He wanted to be angry. He wanted to yell and shout, and blame someone, and get revenge. To have the familiar feeling of anger boiling in his chest, and limbs, because that was easier than feeling his actual emotions.

He was scared. He was so very scared. Scared like the little kid all those years ago, who used to crawl into Techno’s bed late at night, after they had been up late watching a scary movie when they had been told not to. The kid who had cling to his brother while they explored caves that were specifically off-limits. The kid who was scared to see his brother go through that portal into a life that he knew nothing about.

All the anger left. And Wil started to feel the tears slipping down his face.

“Aww, Wil.”

Wilbur melted into the embrace of his father, feeling those big strong wings wrapping around the both of them, while he clung onto Phil’s baggy clothes. Gripping them tightly in his hand, while his chest started to shake and his shoulders started to shudder with sobs. A hand gently rubbed his back, while the tears soaked the shoulder he had buried his face into.

He was so fucking scared.

“It’s ok Wil. I know this is overwhelming. But he’s going to get better alright?”

He gave a shaky nod before another sob slipped out. He had never been embarrassed to cry in front of his father, now was not any different. It was just the defeat of not being able to stay angry that screwed with him. But Wilbur was quickly realizing that he did not care.

“We’ll keep him trapped here for a while. Make sure he eats and rests the way that he is supposed to. And when he goes back, we’ll make sure to pummel some self-care into his stupid thick skull.”

He laughed at the joke, before burying his face a little deeper, taking in the earthy smell of his dad.

They stayed like that for a while. While Phil whispered sweet recurrences to him every so often, while Wilbur’s emotions rollercoaster through being numb and crying.

“I bet Techno would want to see you,” Phil whispered. “He’s resting right now, but when he wakes up.”

“I’d like that,” he whispered into the clothes, starting to run out of tears to cry.

Wilbur wanted to believe his father. That everything was going to be ok. That they were going to get to be a family again, at least for a little while. That Techno was going to be ok. That he was going to get better. The scars would stay in his skin forever, but maybe they could at least get him to the point where he is not going to get anymore.

He could feel himself drift off to sleep, tired from staying up all night with a mission that seemed too petty and pointless now, as well as the drain of emotion.

Strong arms hooked under his legs, and around his back, as he was lifted up, snuggling against his father’s chest, before he was set down on top of a soft, cozy bed. He wiggled himself under the covers, letting his father tuck him in, and place a kiss on top of his head.

Quick nap. Then he would make sure that Techno was ok.

As he started to drift off, he almost missed the “I love you” from Phil, as the avian slipped out of the room. Wilbur decided to tell Phil the same once he woke up.

***

Phil sighed as he waited in the living room, a cup of tea in hand, and an unread book sitting open on his lap. Every few minutes, he would get up and pace around, sometimes walking past his son's rooms, listening for anything, before returning to the living room. He would leave Tommy and Wilbur’s rooms alone, but open Techno’s to peek in, just to see the piglin asleep and snuggled under his covers. Leaving the boy alone made him anxious, but he knew that most of the wounds would be healed by rest. Healing pots could only do so much, and even then, those were temporary effects, fading after a few hours, leaving the user more times, and with the same wounds as before.

And drugs were not the best thing to be giving a hurt person at the moment.

So Phil stuck to the prescribed medicine, doubling the dose, just because Techno was a piglin, and a big one at that. Most of the time he had to double medication, for the few times his son had gotten sick.

The avian hybrid smiled at the memory. He still remembered the king who had showed up at his door, balancing a little, scrawny piglin on his arm. Eret his name had been. Proud and tall, but always anxious about whether he was able to make good decisions, and help people. Oftentimes Phil had assured him that he was doing the right thing and that he would go far.

They had met when they were both trying to get private servers of their own. A long and tedious process that many failed in. Phil had almost failed. Eret was the one who offered to tutor him, so he would have a chance.

When people got their own server, it was a matter of willpower on whether they were going to be able to keep it. A person’s being was tied to the server, and they would have to learn to be one with the place around them, or else the server would consume them, corrupting their very being, and turn them into something that was not even conscious. These were called Vices. And were angry, powerful, and dangerous, often required a team of people to break into the server and take them down before they were able to take apart the place.

So that was why there were tests on who could get a server and who could not. And they were hard tests. Having to prove your physical and mental strength, to make sure that a new Vice would not be made. Many failed. Phil would have failed as well if it had not been for Eret and his tutoring.

They had grown close in that time, talking about what they wanted to accomplish with their servers. Phil just wanted a place away from everyone, to have his own little sanctuary where he could be alone, and not have to deal with his adventures of the past. He was tired and wanted a place to rest. Eret wanted a place where he could keep people safe. Where he could protect people from the harsh world that they lived in and offer a piece of safe haven. A mutual kind of respect blossomed out of this, resulting in Phil giving the young king lots of advice on how to rule. While Phil had never been a king, he knew the basics of how to be a good one.

They had both eventually passed their exams, celebrating with drinks and food. Although they both knew that there was still one more hard part to go: getting bonded to a server.

They prepared as best as they could, giving encouraging words, before separating ways to the final step.

To date, Phil did not think that there had been anything more painful than getting bonded to a server. To feel something drip over his being, cold and hot at the same time, filling the cracks and expanding, making him feel like his chest was going to burst from the pressure. Screaming in agony, while the people around could not do anything to help, occasionally whipping the sweat off of his forehead. It felt like he was going to die.

Until something gave way, and the server started to settle. He felt different. More heavy, and like he could feel everything so much more intensely. Tender to the touch, and whoever was in his server at the moment. He had spent weeks just getting used to the feeling of his being extended to the world around him, and the overwhelming feeling that this was home.

Months had passed, and Phil made a home by the time Eret came by with a bundle of skin and bones in his arms. A little piglin cub. A piglet, curling close to his chest, hooved hand grabbing onto his shirt with all the strength he had.

“I know this is sudden, but I believe you told me that you wanted a child?”

And since then Phil had loved and cared for the piglet as his son, collecting brothers for the boy as he went alone. He was happy to say that he was content with the family he had made, loving them with all of his being, wanting nothing more than to keep them safe.

And he had failed.

Of course, that's not true, but that did not quell the doubt that Phil had about his ability to keep his sons safe. He did not want to stifle them, when Techno had come to him, saying that he wanted to go to a bigger server, Phil had let him. It hurt a little, but the last thing that he wanted to do was hold them back. The part that worried him was the fact that his piglin son had not come to him sooner when he was hurt.

Was there something that he did?

Something that he said?

These thoughts had started to eat away at his brain ever since Techno had called with slurred words, begging for help.

Phil was determined to make it up. He had to.

There was a shiver of energy that crawled up his spine, letting him know that there was someone known on his server. Must be Techno’s friends.

Setting down his cup of tea, the avian put on a new pot, knowing that it would not be able to boil by the time they got here. The path to the house from the portal was not long, but it was more of just a formality. He had a feeling that they would just want to see Techno.

A light rapping of knuckles drew him to the door, opening it up. It was very dark, but the torches that illuminated the porch showed a woman, pink hair, and a determined look on her face. A large overcoat over a white tank top with a bag slung around her arm. Behind her was an enderman hybrid, with purple particles occasionally floating off of him, towering over the women, but rubbing his hands together nervously.

“Hello,” Phil said politely, after taking in the duo in front of him. They both looked tired. “I assume you are Techno’s friends?”

“Hello, you must be Phil. My name is Niki, and this is my younger brother Ranboo,” she spoke with a quick, hasted tone, almost looking around Phil at the home beyond him. She was looking for him. “Is Techno….?”

“He’s alright for now. Sleeping I think.”

“Oh, well we can come back….”

“No, please come in. You’ve come all of this way. I have guest bedrooms, and he’ll probably want to see you two when he wakes up.”

Phil moved and gestured inside. Niki walked in, Ranboo following close behind, having to duck a little bit, just because of how tall he was.

“I can check now, to see if he’s awake.”

“That would be great, thank you.”

The avian smiled a bit as he left the guests in the living room. Techno had made some good friends.

Cracking the door open, trying his best to not let in any of the hallway lights, Phil peaked into his son's room. It was hot in the room, the way that Techno liked it. Being a piglin, he liked the heat much more than the cold, always keeping his room much hotter than the rest of the house.

There was the sound of a shift, and a slight groan, before Techno’s sleep thick voice cut through the darkness.

“Dad?”

“Hey Techno. Did I wake you?”

“No, is there something that you need?”

“You’re friends are here. Are you awake enough to talk, or do you want to wait?”

“Yeah, yeah that’s ok.”

He sounded tired.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m ok.”

Phil pursed his lips together but left the door open a little bit, and walked down the hallway to the living room anyways. He did not want Techno to get stressed out, or push himself too far, gods know he’s already done a lot of that.

“He’s awake, if you want to see him now,” Phil said. They basically jumped at the opportunity, catching up to him fast, and following him down the hall.

A lamp was on by the time that Phil got back, with muffled pained gasps coming from the room. Pushing the door open, showing the piglin struggling to sit up, gritting his teeth together as he moved, screwing his eyes shut.

“Techno….” Phil rushed to his son's side, taking a grip under his forearm, and around his bicep, “don’t move, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Just….h-help me sit up,” his breathing was gasped, and broken. Trying to push past the pain, shoving it down, and acting like it did not exist. The pain meds helped with passive pain. Pain that happened when he was just sitting still, but not when he was moving.

Phil blinked the tears away, getting a better grip on the piglin, and helping him sit up, adjusting the pillow on his back so he was not leaning back on hardwood. His heart ached with the way that Techno grunted at the slightest movement, the way that he leaned his head back, panting for breath.

He patted his hand, giving Techno a soft smile.

***

“Technoblade!” shouted Niki, running forward, before grabbing his other hand, rubbing the back of his palm, tears standing in her eyes.

“Hi Niki.”

“Oh you stupid, stupid piglin! Do you know how much you scared us? Are you ok? You don’t look ok. Is there anything that we can bring you? We got some of your clothes from your apartment, and….”

She stopped. Holding his hand in her’s. Looking him up and down. He looked terrible. Dark circles under his eyes. A gaunt and tired face. Slumped shoulders, and still panting for breath.

Niki felt her bottom lip quiver. She had promised herself she was not going to cry. That she was going to be there for her friend. That she would be strong.

But seeing him like this. The big, strong, proud piglin looked weak and small. His eyes cast down just in front of him, not looking at anyone. The way his father hovered over him, parental instinct telling him that he needed to protect his child. It made her sadder than she had been expecting.

Tears started to fall out of her eyes. Trickling down her face and to the back of her hand.

Techno’s eyes snapped to the moment, before slowly crawling up to her face. Guilt was written all over his face. A deep-seeded sadness that she had never seen on the piglin’s face before. One that took years to grow. And it hurt to see.

“Oh, Techno.”

That’s all she could say. Her voice even cracked at the words. His ears pinned against his head not meeting her eyes.

A long arm reached around Niki, placing onto Techno’s shoulder.

“I missed you,” Ranboo said, giving him a reassuring squeeze, “a-and I’m glad you’re ok.”

A deep breath. She would have time to deal with the sadness later. Late at night was not the time. Now was not the time. She needed to make sure he knew that they were there for him. 

Wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve, Niki took another breath and put a smile on her face.

“We missed you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The perspective changes like 3 times this chapter, which is not ideal, especially with how small Niki's section was, but don't worry, we will get more of her. She's not going anywhere.
> 
> Next chapter is going to be intense....
> 
> That is all you're getting.
> 
> Have a good day :)


	7. This is a Bad Fucking Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, the tags have been updated. Please read them before continuing, there will be themes of drug abuse from here on out.

It was late. Almost three in the morning, and the whole house was quiet. Niki and Ranboo had gotten situated in the guest room after an hour of talking, and Phil was off to his own room. The only one awake was Techno. Sitting up in his bed, insisting that he could lay down on his own and that he did not need Phil’s help for such a simple task. He had gotten the eye from his father before the avian finally left, never really taking his eyes off of his son.

Techno had been wracking his brain all day, trying to find a way that he would be able to be ready to fight in a week and a half. Gods, even when he said it in his head, he knew that it was not enough time. But it was what needed to be done, so he was going to make it happen.

And he had come up with a way to do it. It was the best and only plan that he had, but it was the only thing that could conceivably work.

Phil used to be an adventurer when he was younger, a fighter even. Traveling around different servers, collecting items, building things, and fighting. Through everything he had done, the large black wings that sprouted from his back, he had earned the name “Angel of Death.” Occasionally Techno would hear the name in locker rooms, or in conversations with other fighters. He was a legend, knowing for fast thinking, and being basically unkillable. Techno had never mentioned that this person was his father, mostly because he did not need more attention on him. He already got enough attention from being “The Blood God,” he did need more from “being the Angel of Death’s son.” He had not even told his manager. That would be a death sentence. He would then be forced to tell people. And that was the last thing that he wanted to happen.

But besides being an ex-celebrity, Phil had a lot of rare items. There was a shed a short walk from their house that held everything he had collected through the years. Sometimes he opened it up when he needed to clear a place in his server, or was training one of them in how to brew potions and sword fighting. But other than it was mostly unused, which meant that Techno had some time to replace what he was going to take: strength potions.

Potions were, essentially, drugs. There was no way around it. They gave short boosts of energy that faded after a few hours or so, then the person would return to whatever physical state they had been in before. Useful, but a short term solution. Often used when someone needs a little bit more health, or to forget about their wounds for a while, or just needed to be invisible for a while.

Supposedly “forbidden” in competitions, but if you knew the right people, made the right connections, they would look the other way. There had been multiple times Techno had fought someone who seemed a little too strong for how muscular their body was. Those fights had always been the hardest. It was how he got the wound on his left side, the one that ran from his armpit to his hip.

They were dangerous.

And they would be the thing that would help Techno get back on his feet in ten days.

He was going to need a lot of them, slowly increasing the amount that he would be taking every day so his progress could seem natural and normal. Gods knew that if he just all of a sudden gained enough strength to go fight on the last day Phil was going to be suspicious. Niki would be suspicious, and her being here was just putting another obstacle in his way.

He could play off his quick recovery to the fact that he was a piglin, something that they had experienced in the past. Techno could just hope and pray that it was going to work.

There was another part of this plan that he was worried about, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it. At the moment, the first step was getting to the shed and getting the strength potions.

Techno had been spending the last ten minutes trying to hype himself up. The last little stunt that he had pulled had taken more out of him than he was willing to admit, and he felt so very drained of any energy he had gotten from sleep. His muscles felt like they were one good tug from coming off of his bones, strained and hurting. His limbs were filled with lead, and weighed him down, making it hard to move. And yet he knew that this was his only chance.

The “recovery” had to be slow, and gradual, which meant he needed to start this plan now.

With a deep breath, feeling his lungs expand to the point where they hurt, Techno swung his legs over the side of the bed. The ground felt so far away. The shed felt even further away. A part of him was trying to get him to crawl back under the warm covers, and sleep. To get some rest, and not try to go through with this plan.

He pushed off of the bed and landed on his hooves. They immediately started to shake under him. The movement pulled against the stitches in his leg. His hands gripped the bedside table with all of his might, gritting his teeth together, the only thing keeping himself upright was pure willpower.

Techno took a step.

His body screamed at him, a shot of pain rippling through his body.

Leaning against the wall, Techno inched his way to the door. Dry tears started to form in his eyes. The skin around the stitches was starting to stretch, and pull. His muscles ached painfully against his bones, and every part of his was shaking. He panted softly, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

The door was pushed open, and the dark hallway opened before him. There was a backdoor immediately to the left, which led to the shed.

_Out the door, down the path, out the door, down the path, out the door, down the path…._ The words repeated as a mantra in his mind, as the pain started to get more intense. It was starting to creep up to the rest of his limbs. His heart started to pound against his rib cage, pulsing his body with blood.

His eyes hurt, his legs shook, his chest hurt, everything fucking hurt.

Techno sloppily forced the door open, before taking off outside of the house, moving as fast as he could, clenching the fabric around his heart. It felt like the organ was going to burst. Nausea was starting to rise up in his throat, and _fuck_ it hurt.

The piglin let out a pathetic whimper as soon as he got to the door, fumbling with the handle. He was starting to feel his body shutting down. This was too much, he was overexerting himself. His skin was sensitive, and electric, even the air touching it was overwhelming his senses. Black spots started to dance across his vision, and all he could hear was his own heart beating way too fast.

Panic was setting in. His overstimulated, overworked brain was starting to panic, still finding room for the emotion even when it felt like his head was going to explode from his full it was.

The rough texture of a chest made him want to throw up, gagging and retching as he forced it open, his arms feeling so very close to ripping out. Reaching in, he felt the cold touch of glass, taking the bottle out, tearing off the cork and….

The potion was cold going down his throat. Calming. Centering. A shiver ran across his skin, clearing away the pain, overstimulation, everything.

Techno sagged against the chest, breathing heavily. His heart was still beating too hard, but now it was because of the false adrenaline rush he had given to himself. He could hear again. See again. And he was so tired.

Tears still pricked against his eyes, letting his body calm down, for a while. Thoughts started to flow back through his brain, taking stock of what was around him.

Weapons lined the walls, with neatly organized chests, most likely filled to the brim with precious resources.

Lazily turning his head, Techno looked at the bottle in his hand. It swirled with a deep maroon red, almost like blood. A thick, sloshy liquid that turned over in the bottle as his hands shook. A sip was all he took, but that was all that he needed. Energy started to flow through his veins again, but it was already starting to wear off.

Counting to three, Techno heaved himself to his feet, only swaying a little bit when he stood up, shaking the dizziness out of his head.

He peered into the chest, taking stock of all of the potions. There were hundreds of them. All straight potions. Yeah, these were not going to be missed.

Realizing that he had forgotten a bag, Techno took another swig of the potion, feeling himself stand all the way up as soon as the liquid touched his tongue. Grabbed armfuls of the bottles, he kicked the lid closed and stumbled out of the shed. He had just enough energy to get back to his room before the potion wore off, and that was all he was going to be able to take, at least tonight.

Potions were odd creations. Pulling, and pushing people’s bodies into overdrive, allowing them to do spectacular things. It was like adrenaline, out an outside source of it. They were fantastic and dangerous.

Stashing his miracle drug under the bed, Techno crawled back into his bed, just as the potion wore off. There was still a numb, tingling feeling deep in his core. It felt cold. Too cold. But he wanted to be asleep before the pain of his little adventure caught up with him.

A part of him wanted to cry. A deep, deep sadness. For the fact that he was only going to have ten days with his family. That he was going to have to leave early. That….

He shook his head, dismissing the thoughts. This was for the best. Everything was going to be alright. And it was not like he could not visit his family while he had his job.

Right?

Techno grabbed onto the happy memory and hope of showing his brothers and father around the city, discovering new places to eat, or new buildings to explore, laughing with each other as they went. They all had that itch to explore new places, a byproduct of being their father’s sons. And he was sure that Niki and Ranboo could come with them. They would fit right in with the chaotic group that he called family.

That thought lulled him to sleep, with the pain started to settle into his bones once again.

***

There was a harsh ring. A jolt of pure, animalistic panic shot through Techno as his phone rang echoed through the room.

His hands shot over to the device, half ready to decline the call and get back to sleep. But the contact at the top made him stop.

_Jones D. Henswort._

He gulped a nervous breath down, before answering the call.

“Technoblade!” a shout on the other side stopped him before he could even get a word n. He cringed at the angry tone, his ears flattening, and curling up over himself. Loud noises were never his favorite thing. Especially when they were directed at him. “What the fuck is that viral video about?”

His heart stopped.

“W-what?”

“I’ve sent you a link, and you better have a good fucking explanation for this, or else….oh my god you do realize what kind of a mess you have made for us?”

His hands shook violently, as Techno opened the link, feeling his heart starting to rise in his throat as the video loaded.

His heart sank to his stomach when it came into focus.

There he was. Draped over Phil and Tommy’s shoulders, Wilbur following close behind, all of them looked in various stages of worried, panicked, and angry. People stood on either side of them, already seeing half a dozen phones out and recording the scene in front of them.

He looked, to put it lightly, fucking bad. His face was drawn out with pain, dark purple circles under his eyes, gritting his teeth in pain, and clenching the shirts of his father and brother. Every once in a while, he could see himself trying to get his feet under him, shaking as soon as he did, and collapsing back into the holds of his family. Phil whispered reassuring words as they went, while Tommy kept his mouth in a thin line, like he was biting his tongue out of worry. Wilbur looked angry. Angrier than he had ever seen his brother.

Phil’s wings were puffed out, creating a little barrier around them, glaring at anyone who came into their path. His face only softened when he addressed his sons.

Tommy looked scared. More scared than ever.

He could feel the tears started to crawl down his face as soon as he heard himself whimper in pain, whispering incoherent words, and leaning his head on his father’s shoulder, his head rolling around, unable to hold it up.

This was bad.

This was so very bad.

His whole body shook, pulling the phone back up to his ear, and started to speak, his voice choked with emotion and shame.

“I saw it.”

“And what the fuck was that? Hmmm? You said that you were hurt, resting, not parading your useless ass all over the server. What the absolute fuck? Do you know how many people saw you? Do you know how many people saw those videos? It’s fucking trending! What in the hell do you have to say for yourself?”

His words choked in his throat, tightened with shame. He could not breathe. His brain was off, shut down, he could not process what he was feeling. His chest hurt. He could feel himself choosing a spot on the wall, and starting to zone out. This was too much. It just was too much.

“Technoblade! You better fucking answer me right now!”

A moment.

“I’m sorry.”

Techno would have felt embarrassed on how small his voice sounded if he was there anymore. His eyes did not leave that spot while he went numb.

“Sorry is not going to fucking cut it. You just made a lot more work for us, I hope you know that. Ten days. That’s all you’re getting. You’re lucky we are not making it less. When you get back, you better be getting ready to work your ass off, because we are going to make sure you make up for this you useless, stupid animal.”

The line went dead.

Techno’s arms hung loosely at his sides. Too heavy to lift. Too hard to think.

His body shook with emotions he could not process. Completely shut down, and numb to the world around him.

He was floating in a void of nothingness while his eyes were wide open. He did not want anything. He did not dislike anything. He did not know he was capable of wanting anything or disliking anything at the moment.

It was like watching himself, but he was fully conscious of what was going on.

Hours passed, and Techno did not move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bad progression has been made.
> 
> Also, this is like 83 pages in googles docs, which is way more than I was thinking, and I still have a few more plot points that I want to get too. So, pog?


	8. Warm Pancakes and Conversation For Not the Faint of Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned that I have zero self-control before? Because I have zero self-control. I wrote this all today. I have a geology test tomorrow.
> 
> This is fine.

Ranboo slowly started to come back to consciousness. In the three days that they had not known where their piglin friend was, both he and Niki had basically stayed up those three days looking for him. So a good night's sleep felt amazing. Curled up with his sister, before drifting off, knowing that Techno was safe, less than twenty feet from them, so they could protect him if need be.

He did not really know where the bond that the two had with the piglin started. They had known him for a little over three months, and yet Ranboo felt like he had known him for much longer.

Maybe it was because he did not look at Ranboo with the same disgust that most people did. Maybe it was because he was so willing to talk to the enderman hybrid like a normal human, and not someone who was going to attack people at any moment. Maybe it was the few times that Techno had cooked for them, retelling stories of greek mythology, or some past adventure that he had with his brothers and father. Maybe it was the time that Ranboo had let it slip in conversation that he was having some trouble with some kids at school, and the piglin had taken it upon himself to teach the teen some self-defense, classes were every Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday, with homework to do on the off days. Maybe it was because Techno felt so much like the big brother he never had.

Maybe it was a little of everything.

Regardless of what moment had led him to feeling like the world was crashing around him when Techno had not come home that day, the piglin still meant a lot to him. And, even though they had not met any of his brothers, he felt like he knew them already: Wilbur, the musician, and talker, with a tongue as venomous and sweet as silver, it had gotten them out of a lot of jams in the past. Tommy, impatient, energetic teen, who, once he decided he liked someone, would not leave them alone. And Phil, their father, patient, kind, but damn scary if you pissed him off.

And now he was in their house. It felt awkward for sure, but most situations felt awkward. And someone about Phil’s smile made him relax a bit. It did not make him feel any less weird about being there.

Maybe it was the anxiety that made him get up, expertly untangling himself from Niki. He was still in his clothes from yesterday, since they had not been planning to stay the night. He felt a little gross, but nothing he could not handle for now.

He poked his head out of the door, looking both ways to make sure that no one was coming, before tip-toeing his way down the steps.

Their house was cozy, he did have to say. The wall next to the stairs was covered in pictures of the three boys, a few more serious ones, but most of them were taken in the moment, small captures of what had been going on.

There was one with a young blonde, he had to assume was Tommy, arms up, with a delighted look on his face, as he rode on top of Techno’s shoulders, running at full speed, with a beaning wearing brunette, Wilbur, close behind them.

Technoblade looked odd as a kid. Not odd as in he looked bad, just….odd. He had the same stocky body that he had currently, but significantly less muscular. And his tusks were much smaller or adorned with jewelry that the adult Techno often did. One difference stuck out like a sore thumb: the lack of scars. There were a few, but none of them were as jagged and harsh as the ones that littered adult Techno.

Ranboo could not decide how sad he was about that fact.

“They were a bunch of little gremlins that day,” a voice said from further down the stairs. Ranboo jumped, making a slight _murrp_ noise.

On the bottom step was a smiling Phil, a long green cloak dragging over his form, the sleeves almost covering his hands, with the two black wings relaxed on his back. With a white and green bucket hat on his head. He looked tired, with two very dark, and deep bags under his almost too blue eyes.

“They would not listen, insisting that they could stay out for a little longer, even with the storm coming in,” Phil said, gesturing to the photo with his head, the same nostalgic, tired smile on his face. “We ended up getting caught in the rain. All three of them came down with colds and could not go outside of another week.”

He laughed. A chest laugh. A wave of comfort washed over Ranboo, and he felt his shoulders relax, his tail going back to its original position behind him.

“Come on,” Phil started to walk, motioning for him to follow, “I am starting to make breakfast. You can help.”

Ranboo followed the avian hybrid over to the kitchen, already alive with smells of sweet syrup, and fruit. A pan sizzled with heat, with a bowl of pancake mix sitting next to that. It was warm, but not overwhelming. Warm in the way that a hug was warm. Comforting. The just rising sun cast glimmers of light across the counter, with dust particles dodging in and out of the stream.

“Cut the fruit, will you mate?” Phil said, before returning to the pan, taking a big scoop of the mix, and plopping it into the hot pan.

“Oh, um, yeah.”

Everything was already laid out. Washed strawberries on a towel drying, a bowl with only the bottom covered in diced fruit, and a knife laying on the cutting board.  
Ranboo mimicked the motions he had seen Techno do when cutting things, going much slower, but still just as calculated as the piglin.

The two hybrids stayed in silence for a while. Not awkward silence, but something softer. Esque to the times that he had cooked with Techno, the soft silence that they would fall into where neither of them had anything to say, and both knew that that was ok. Just basking in each other's company. It was so familiar Ranboo felt back into the patterns. It was obvious that Techno had learned this from his father. Even the same, familiar hum started to fill the air with a warm sense of safety and nostalgia.

It felt so safe. The same kind of safety that he felt around Techno, but it was more fierce around the piglin’s father. Which was odd, because there was such an overwhelming amount of calm that radiated from the man, that it took a while to recognize it. Many habits that the piglin had were starting to make sense.

“So you are close with my son?” The silence was broken, after a while, but not in an unnatural way. The humming had come to an end a little while ago, generally meaning that a conversation was starting, giving Ranboo time to prepare. A small gesture that the ender hybrid appreciated.

“Y-yeah, I guess so. I mean, he’s a nice guy. And he….well, he seems to like me….I think. I actually ran into him when I first met him. I’m not the best at first impressions.”

Phil chuckled a little.

“Trust me, neither is he. He’s not the most outgoing person when it comes to meeting new people, so I’m glad he’s made some friends.”

“Yeah. He’s just a little….um….intimidating at first. Oh! No offense.”

Phil laughed again. Ranboo found himself really liking the laugh.

“None taken mate. He is a big dude. Just makes it all the more funny when you find out he’s actually a big softy.”

Ranboo smiled. It had not been this easy to talk to someone in a long time.

“He actually talks about you a lot.”

“Oh? All good things I hope.”

“Amazing things! Like how you slain an ender dragon. And entered into a hardcore competition, surviving the longest on just one life. And the hordes of zombies that you defeated when you all had just come to this server. You’ve done so many amazing things!”

“Well, I suppose so.”

“And he talks about Wilbur and Tommy too. Ummm….sometimes little less nice things, though.”

“As I would expect.”

“And all of the adventures that he’s been on! The fights he’s gotten into…..”

Ranboo’s voice trailed off at the mention of fights. That was the whole reason that Techno was so hurt. His job. The fights. Niki would speed through the fights to get to his part so she could know if he was going to need to be helped with his wounds that day. Sometimes they missed days, just because of how busy they were. Those always seemed like the days when he got hurt the worst. There were some days where he could barely walk, the pain was so bad. Every time they would try to urge him to call his father, and brothers, they all knew what would happen if he went to a hospital. Every time he would change the subject, or dodge the question. Only a few times did he actually flat out reject. Once did he give a reason:

_“I don’t want to bother them.”_

And for the few minutes he had spent with Phil, Ranboo knew that there were very few ways to bother this man, especially when it came to his own sons. With all of the soft comfort, gentle tones, and light laughter, there was something much more heavy going on under all of it: worry. He was deathly worried for his son, especially now that he was home and wounded. There was no way to prevent Techno from getting hurt, especially when his job was as dangerous as it is, but there was a way to help after that. And the very few people that the piglin had allowed to do that was himself and Niki, and that was after months of pestering. He was refusing to let people help, or even know he was hurt.

And it was worrying his father.

There had to be a reason that he was doing this, Techno was not the kind of person to just do things without a purpose. And the reasoning being his actions might scare Phil more than he would like to let on.

Ranboo shook the thoughts out of his head. This was not the time to analyze his friend's dad. Although, the two of them shared similar worries and fears.

With a deep breath, Ranboo spoke.

“I know you’re worried about him. I am too. A lot. He’s stubborn and likes to think that he can do everything by himself. I-I don’t know why he has not called you. But I do know that he cares about you a lot. And he thinks very highly of you.

“I….can't really speak for him, I mean, I’ve only known him for a few months, but….I think he wants you to be proud of him. And prove that he is worth something. And he can’t see that….”

“That I’m already proud of him,” Phil finished the sentence, eyes dark from his hat being pulled forward. “He was always a difficult one to raise. Always having to be better, never content with where he was. A fighting spirit. And there’s nothing wrong with that, but after a while….it can start to weigh you down. Especially if you are never content with where you are, and always have to be better.”

The avian took a shaky breath, before flipping the pancake.

“I know he’ll talk about it when he is ready. It’s just a matter of waiting, and not forcing him to do anything that drags his emotions out into the open when he’s not ready for that. I….just hope that he knows, whatever he has to talk about, I’m going to be proud of him.”

Silence.

Thicker than it had been before. Slightly more suffocating. But with emotions that needed to get out there.

Phil coughed, and placed another pancake on the plate he shoved into the oven, to make sure that they stayed warm.

“I’m glad he has you and Niki though, to watch over him when he’s away,” the avian continued, almost out of batter. “He’s a stubborn one, he is. And it’s good to know that he has some people to lean on.”

“He’ll come around.”

“I hope you're right kid. Because I don’t know if he can…..if I……”

The silence started to weigh on their shoulders. With unspoken words of unspoken tragedy that was too horrible to even utter. But they both understood. Maybe that was what made the silence so terrible. That they both understood what was trying to be said, but neither of them had the guts to say it. Like even just uttering it would cause it to happen.

And the both of them knew that neither of them could handle that.

***

The deep thoughts left no room to pay attention to the blonde teen sneaking down the steps. Tommy had heard….most of it. Enough that he understood. His eyes drifted to his brother's door, right next to where he was standing on the steps.

From what he had heard, Ranboo was a good guy, looking after the piglin that he called a brother, and making sure that he did not do anything too dumb. Of course, they could not really do anything if Techno decided to do something. It was one of his more infuriating qualities.

And Tommy would admit, he was scared.

He had seen the videos started to circle around on the internet. They have been for a while now, but you get a bit distracted when you are looking after your brother who is in so much pain that he can’t even walk.

Tommy did not need to see how bad Techno looked, not again. He had been there. Very visible in the video. Arm slung around the piglin, trying to make sure that he did not drop the older, with the look of absolute terror on his face.

Because that's what he had been feeling. Terror. And now theories were circling around on the internet, of what happened to the famed here:

Was he involved with some kind of gang? Got busted for something? Drugs of some kind? Finally exposed as a fraud and taken away from Hypixel?

But the ones that made Tommy’s blood boil, the ones that made him put down his phone and take a shower, were the ones that went: “finally, someone took the animal away.”

He hated those ones. He hated more than he was willing to admit.

That was his fucking brother they were talking about. Did they not know that? Did they not know that, even if they did not like him as a fighter, Technoblade was still a person. A person with emotions, and feelings, and memories, and _gods fucking damn it, why did people have to say that!_

He had logged off as soon as he saw those theories. And accidentally stumbled upon a conversation that was more heartfelt than what he was willing to get involved with this early in the morning.

The blonde decided that he did not want to think. He did not want to think about how his brother had almost died, bleeding out on a car. How he had to carry his older brother away from a hospital because he was in too much pain to walk, but the same hospital that was meant to help him did not want him around. He did not want to think about how people were calling his brother an animal.

All he wanted to do was act like everything was normal.

So with a smile on his face, Tommy fanned heavy footsteps on the stairs and burst into the kitchen.

“Hello Phil!” he almost shouted, taking a few of the strawberries from the bowl in front of the kid who had arrived last night. Phil had sent them a helpful text, letting them know what was going on, so they did not freak out when strangers were in the house. “Good morning strange child.”

And Tommy had to agree with his father on this one, he was glad someone was taking care of Techno.

“Good Morning Tommy.” Phil’s voice was thick with emotion, and the teen did not miss the way he rubbed his sleeve on his eyes. He did not mention either. “Pancakes will be done in a bit, go wake up Wilbur.”

“Ok.”

“Oh, and go get Niki too, she’s in the guest bedroom. This is Ranboo by the way.”

“Hello, Ranboob. What, why you got ‘boob’ in your name?”

“Tommy….”

He was off before his father could finish, slightly giggling to himself. If he could not make things go away, he could make people happy, and forget about the shit situation for a while.

“Hey bitch boy!” he shouted into Wilbur’s room, swinging on the door, “pancakes are ready bitch!”

He retreated before the pillow was able to hit him, lamely flopping in the hallway after he left the door open.

And if anyone thought that the guest would get better treatment, they were sorely mistaken.

“Yeeeaaahhh! New girl! Wake up!”

And that's how Tommy found himself sitting at the table, happily munching on pancakes, a stupid big grin on his face, with a more sore head. Wilbur could hit hard when he wanted to, especially down. The new girl, who he found out was named Niki, was the only one who got an actual apology, at least one that did not have any swearing. She was smiling too, sitting next to Ranboo at their breakfast table.

He liked the two already. They seemed alright. Ranboo seemed like fun, and a part of him wanted to add him to the duo that he and Tubbo had made. A conversation for later, when there were no adults who would disprove of the mildly illegal things that they got up to.

It was not a quiet breakfast, but, then again, he never let it be a quiet breakfast. Between arguing with Wilbur, grilling Ranboo and Niki with questions, and calling Phil old, it was lively. Just like it had used to be. There were smiles on people’s faces and sticky good pancakes on everyone’s plates.

No talk of what was going on. No asking serious, medical questions. Just people, having breakfast.

It had been so nice. So when Tommy had seen Techno struggling to get down the hall, heavily leaning on the walls around him, he almost did not believe it. It had been a day.

Exactly one day since he had gotten out of the hospital. He had not been able to hold his own weight than, much less walk.

But a double, triple check confirmed that yes, that was his idiot older brother trying to walk.

His body reacted before his mind was able to comprehend that fact.

“Hey hey hey!”

That came out a little louder than Tommy had expected, but the attention was on him as soon as he stood up in such a hurry that his chair fell backward to the ground.

He was at Techno’s side in seconds, slipping under his arm, and taking some of the weight off of his feet, while he leaned the rest on the wall.

Expect that did not feel like the case.

No, it felt like Techno was having a fine time holding himself up, with just the wall as support. He seemed fine with that. Strong even, in that regard.

_Ok, wait no. That’s wrong. There’s no way that he’s this strong already. There’s no way. There’s….._

“Technoblade!”

Phil’s voice rang out in the house, shutting everyone up. His eyes glistened with disbelief, and worry, a single word had so much emotion flowing through it. Starting with terror, which turned into worry. Which turned into something so much more scary.

Rage.

And even though the tone was not directed at him, Tommy flinched at it, while Techno tensed under his grasp. They were in trouble.

The avian puffed out his wings, rushing to his son's side in a second, and grabbing the other side of him, much like they had when they took him back from the hospital, being wary of the wounds Phil knew were there.

“What the hell are you thinking?! What the fuck! Get back to bed, right this fucking instant!”

“Phil…..”

“Do. Not.”

All of the air left the room, immediately. People held their breath, hoping that it would last them through the moment, as Philza Minecraft, the Angel of Death, stared down at his son with cold, piercing blue eyes. An expression that Tommy had only seen one or two times, both when they all were kids.

Phil was not to be fucked with.

Phil was not to be fucked with.

Tommy could feel a shift in Techno, no doubt his piglin instincts telling him to move away from the danger, leaning more on the younger blonde as he did.

The feeling was mutual.

There were not many times when Tommy was genuinely afraid of his father, but this, as his chest felt like it was shaking, his heart beating way too fast, this was one of those times.

He could not move.

He could not breathe.

He almost forgot that he was holding Techno up.

Until the piglin moved after a few, agonizing seconds of pure and complete terror.

Technoblade dipping his head low, not daring to make eye contact with his father, before he spoke two pitiful words.

“Yes sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Philza Minecraft is a terrifying person, in real life and his character, and I would absolutely freeze if I ever saw him mad.
> 
> Enjoy the product of my lack of control over my life, I am going to go study rocks.
> 
> Also, rip Technoblade, the Blood God, he will be missed.


	9. Rage Burning Bright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fear
> 
> Also, this fic is officially 100 pages wrong...  
> I have written 100 pages of Minecraft fanfiction.  
> What am I doing with my life?  
> The lord's work. I am doing the Lord's work, and I do not regret any of it. Enjoy!

Phil basically threw Technoblade back to his bed, moving as quickly as he could, while also making sure that he was not going to rip open any wounds. Which was not something that he would need to worry about if the _fucking man had not gotten up in the first place!_

Rage boiled through his entire being, alive on his skin, and ruffled his wings out of irritation.

No, irritation was too light of a word. He was irritated when one of his sons forgot to do the dishes when it was their turn to get them done. He was irritated when Tommy repeatedly asked him if he could hang out with Tubbo, even when the teen had not even started on his homework. He was irritated when Wilbur insisted on practicing his guitar at one in the morning, forgetting that he lived with other people.

What he was right now was fucking pissed off, and furious.

While Tommy helped get Techno all the way into bed, Phil started to pace around the room, vaguely aware of what was going on. Pushing the hair out of his eyes, he tried to calm the absolute fury that was in his chest. It burned and roared, an inferno alive in him. Almost a separate being.

Almost.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Phil yelled, turning on his heels to face his son, looking the piglin right in the face. Or at least tried to. Techno dropped his gaze as soon as his father turned to face him.

“Phil….” Tommy’s voice did not help, only bristling the anger more.

“Leave Tommy.”

Phil kept his ice-blue eyes on Techno, only flicking them over when his youngest did not follow the order. His heart almost melted at how scared Tommy looked. The avian never wanted his kids to be scared of him, always making sure he kept an even and calm tone when they told him things. The last thing that they needed was to be scared of the very person who was meant to protect them.

The rage dampened a little looking at the scared eyes of his youngest son.

“Tommy.”

With slower movements than was needed, Tommy started to move out of the room, his eyes going between his father and brother.

The door clicked shut, and Phil immediately remembered why he was angry.

“What was that?” he asked, cold frosty tone burning the inside of the dark, warm room, as Phil stood across the room from his son, arms crossed, and not taking his eyes off of the piglin. “What in the End was that? What went through your head that made you think that that was a good idea?”

“I’m sorry dad…..” the warrior's voice was small. So much smaller than he had been before. Techno shrank in onto himself, wrapping an arm loosely across his chest

“Sorry is not going to cut it Techno. Not thing time.”

Silence took over the room, while Phil took a breath. The rage still roared in him, but it had calmed a bit. He was not angry at his son. No, the avian was worried.

The words that Techno had told him in the hospital room still echoed through his head. He had not forgotten them since that day, rolling them over in his head whenever he had a spare moment.

_Contract._

That was the whole reason they were in this mess in the first place. Some kind of contract was being held over Techno’s head. He said that that was the reason he had not been taking care of himself.

Phil had told him to call his manager before they left the hospital, to tell them that he was not going to be in work for the next few weeks while he recovered. Techno said that it had been taken care of.

“You could have gotten hurt, Techno. More than you already are! Your body needs to rest and get better, not pull stupid fucking stunts like trying to walk around a little over twenty-four hours after getting out of the _fucking_ hospital.

“You were in the hospital Techno. The _hospital_! Does that mean nothing to you? You were hooked up to tubes, with a breathing mask on. You could not breathe on your own! Your leg was infected, and the doctors said that if you had lost any more blood, you would have…..would have…..fuck!”

Phil turned away from the piglin.

No! He wanted to be angry. He wanted to yell and scream at his son, telling him what an idiot he was, and beat some common sense into the stupid man.

And yet he was here. Tears streaming down his face, remembering the words the doctors had told him. The knowledge he had only known. They had gotten so close to losing him. So Fucking close. Through the disgust of the doctors, he could see a little glimmer of pity and worry. That had almost been the last time he had seen his son. His beautiful baby piglin son. Full of life, and determination.

Phil’s bottom lip quivered, as he tried to suck up the grief, and turned back to his son.

“You scared us.”

His jaw stuttered with the memories, as soft tears started to roll down his face.

“I-I don’t understand,” Phil rubbed the tears out of his eyes, “why did you not come to us sooner? Why….why did you stay away for so long? Why did you wait until you were bleeding out in a car to call?

“Was it something that I did? If it was, I would like to know so I can never do it again, because I don’t want you to be scared to come to me when you have a problem, Techno.”

***

Techno froze. What else could he do? Staring at the covers in front of him, clenching the fabric tight in his fists. He couldn’t look at Phil. But he could hear how desperate he was. Heartbroken.

A part of him wanted to tell his dad. Wanted to tell him everything. About the potions. His plan. The manager. Everything.

And a bigger part of him wanted him to wait. Now was not the time. Not when Phil was like this. Techno would tell him, tell him everything that was going on, everything that had happened in the months that he had been away, but now…now was not the time. That would have to wait.

There was a soft shuffle of cloth and an exhausted sigh.

“Ok, it’s alright, I understand,” Phil said. He sounded so much older than he was. “Get some sleep, we’ll bring some food later.”

That was it. That was the conversation. Phil left. Gently closing the door behind him.

And Techno broke.

_Stupid Techno! Stupid, stupid piglin!_

Technoblade let his face fall into his hands, sitting up in bed, with the door closed, digging his palms and fingers into his eyes, trying to alleviate the pressure that was starting to build up under them.

_Stupid fucking piglin! That was too fast. That was so fast. Of course, they are going to know that something is wrong. Of course….gods damn it, why am I an idiot?_

He had drunk a little bit of the strength potion before he had gone out, after debating for a while if that was too fast. The potion had pumped his veins with energy, making him too confident, thinking that if he leaned enough on the wall, he would be able to fool them. Of course, Phil had noticed. Of fucking course.

Techno suppressed the sobs in his chest, freely letting the tears fall down his face. Why was this so hard? Why was it so hard to ask people for help? It was not like he did not trust his dad. It’s not like he did not trust his family. He loved them. He loved them so much. And his chest burned with the need to tell them. He needed to tell them. About….everything.

But a voice echoed in his ears. One that almost sounded like his own voice. Telling him that this was not the right time. That he needed to wait. Why? Why did he need to wait? Why was he doing this? Why did he not just tell them? Why….

Why?

***

Phil closed the door behind him. Squishing the despair down his chest, as he adjusted the bucket hat on his head.

He could have handled that better. But not like this. Not when the rage still burned in him. Techno did not need to take that. And Phil knew that he could not get rid of it to have an actually constructive conversation with his son.

So he left. It was not the right decision or the right actions to take, but, at the moment, there was no “right” way to handle this. There was something else going on here. Phil could feel it, just under his skin, like an itch that could not be scratched. It was something about this “contract.” When he had asked Techno more about it when he was less high on pain meds, the piglin had shrugged it off, saying that it was just the plans that the company and him had made for the future, but could easily be put on hold.

But that did not feel right.

Phil shook his wings, trying to shake off some of the irritation. No. Right. It was rage. That annoying feeling that had nestled itself in between his feathers was rage. He needed to get some on it out before he blew up on anyone else he cared about.

Again.

Clearing his throat, the avian started to make his way to the kitchen.

It was painfully quiet. All of them sat around the breakfast table that had been so full of life a few moments before. Tommy sat in complete silence, hands folded in his lap, and looking down, drawing his shoulders close together, making himself smaller. Wilbur sat next to his brother, covering his mouth, with his eyebrows knitted together. Ranboo sat across the table, twirling his thumbs around each other with his hands above the table, keeping his eyes on them.

Niki. Niki stood next to her brother. Lips pressed together like she was keeping her words inside of her mouth. A reassuring hand on his shoulder. With eyes that could freeze the warmest of souls.

She was looking right at Phil.

It was pure silence, so everyone heard and turned to face him when he entered the room.

“Techno’s back in bed, resting,” he said, forcing his voice to stay even. He needed to keep it even. “I-I’m going for a walk. I have my communicator if you need me.”

He made a beeline to the door, kicking on his sandals, before picking up the sword that hung on a coat rack next to the door, slipping the sheath around his waist.

All eyes were on him. Shame started to snake down the back of his neck. He was running away from the problem. He was making it worse by doing this.

And then there was a surge in the rage that burned in his stomach, and his hands moved faster. Staying was dangerous. He needed to get out, at least for a little while. He could make things better when he got back.

“Bring Techno some breakfast,” he said dryly, back turned to the rest of the group ignoring the holes they were burning into his back.

No one said anything.

So he turned the handle of the door.

“Let me come with you, Mr. Minecraft.”

Niki’s voice was like the sweetest poison he had ever worked with. Phil glanced behind his shoulder, to already see her close behind him. Her eyes were angry and sharp. Not the rage he felt, but anger. His rage was alive, irrational, almost another being. Her anger was the kind of righteous anger that wanted to right a wrong.

Phil could not find it in him to disagree with her.

With a shrug, Phil kept walking, hearing her follow him close behind.

This was going to be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly shorter chapter, but there will most likely be an update tomorrow because I have so many ideas. Until then, take the angst.
> 
> Also, I really do appreciate everyone who has left a comment, or even just read this. Writing is a super big passion that I have, so knowing that someone actually enjoys what I write makes me very very happy. So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you all!


	10. Lava Pool Therapy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Local bird man gets frustrated with pig child, and walks into the forest, only to have pink haired lady follow him, more news at 9.

Niki was angry. It bubbled in her stomach, making her bull her hands into fists to keep it under her skin. Watching the man walk in front of her, his wings puffed out slightly, gripping the hilt of his sword with more effort than what she wanted for this conversation. She could feel the anger just under the surface with him, threatening to blow at any moment.

Phil had separated himself from the rest of his family, walking out into the forest that surrounded their home. It made sense why. Niki could understand that. Did she wish that he could stay around to help fix the problems? Yes, but there was no point to stay somewhere if you know that the problems will only be made worse.

He had already caused enough damage.

The image of Techno still stuck in her mind. Pure terror struck in his eyes, as he dropped his head, not looking his father in the eyes. A great warrior brought to his knees.

Niki knew how much Techno looked up to his father. How much the piglin wanted to be like him. He had never said as much, but it was obvious in how much he talked about the avian. It was admirable, how much Techno looked up to his father, and yet, Niki was angry at the man.

Angry for a good reason, she felt. Techno was, when it came to taking care of himself, an idiot. That was something that she had come to realize very fast when they had first become neighbors. And for him to look that bad, and to get hospitalized, to be in such a vulnerable position. It must have stressed him out.

And getting yelled at by his father would not have helped.

There was a part of her mind that told Niki that this was not her place. She had only known Techno for a few three months and just met his family last night. Telling Phil the flaws in the way that he raised his children was not something that she should be telling him.

And a part of her did not care.

The two walked in silence, the soft grass under their feet, disappearing as soon as they hit trees, soft dirt taking its place on the ground. The forest was alive with creatures, just out of sight, and mind. Creatures flying overhead, singing their late morning songs while animals fought for their survival all around the two. While Niki tried to get her words in order in her mind.

Just from the way that Phil was walking, she knew that he was powerful. His strong shoulders that held his large wings with pride. The green cardigan that covered his arms did not hide the fact that he was strong. Confidence emanated from each step that he took. Hell, he had taught Techno how to fight. There was no doubt in Niki’s mind that he could take her out at any moment. That fact was not a secret. Did she think that he would actually do it?

No.

Right?

They continued until Phil started to make turns, waving through the trees. Niki picked up her pace to keep up with him. She was beginning to think that he had completely forgotten that she was here, completely consumed by his rage. A single goal in mind, and there was nothing that was going to stop him from getting there.

That single goal came in the form of a cave. Not carved out, or polished like the rest of the caves that she had seen. But raw, uncharted. Completely untouched by the hands of innovation.

Phil marched in with no hesitation. Niki close behind. There was no doubt that he would be able to protect the two of them, especially since Niki did not have a weapon.

Hostile groans of zombies started echoing around the dark interior, accompanied only by the rattle of bones. It was dark, and it was talking all of Niki’s concentration to make sure that Phil stayed in front of her, and she did not accidentally wander off by herself.

The blade was pulled out with a brilliant song of power, before coming down on something in front of them. The squish of rotting loose flesh hitting the ground almost made Niki want to throw up, but the sword persisted. Pushing forward, slashing down on the bones of skeletons, splintering them in a second.

They kept pushing forward, Phil clearing a path right in front of them as they did.

As the sword created a sympathy of power with every hostile creature that it came across, Niki started to hear the ragged breaths of the avian more clearly. Not in exhaustion, or stain, or anything like that.

It was more painful. Broken. Desperate.

They continued. And Phil’s breathing was starting to rise. No longer just a heavy heave of his chest, but sobs started to bubble through his throat.

He kept moving.

The symphony started to fall apart, with no conductor to lead, the sword flailed in his grasp, moving any way he loosely moved his arms. Vionetlaly slashing at the creatures, with no respect for who they were, just another means to create a path of distractions and death.

The avian's breathing was starting to pick up, shuttering his shoulders. He started to curl up on himself, slumping against the walls for support, like the grief was too much for him to handle. Too heavy for his feet to keep upholding. But he kept moving.

Until they turned a corner.

A sea of lava spread out in front of them, stopping their progression. Precious ores and gems encrusted in the walls around the heated magma.

Phil let out a scream of agony. Dropping the sword, and wrapping his arms around himself, pulling his wings in close. His back hit the cold, hard stone, and he slid down until he was sitting on the ground, curled up on himself.

Broken sobs wracked his body, shuttering it with so much grief and sadness. Niki was not sure he could stand, even if he wanted to. He had been carrying this for so long, and now, in this cave deep under the ground, next to a pool of lava, he let it out, forgetting that she was even there.

She moved forward, consciously. While he did not have a weapon, she did not want to startle him, just in case he might do something that he would regret later.

Settling down in the space next to the avian, making sure to give him space, Niki reached out and touched his shoulder.

Phil flinched back horribly, jerking his eyes to look at her. Fear. Before the sadness took over again, dropping his head into his hands.

“Jesus Christ, I forget you were here,” he mumbled.

“I figured that, after the third zombie,” Niki said. The anger had mostly dissipated from her. Replaced with more worry than she was willing to admit. Not only for Techno, but for the tired man in front of her.

They stayed in silence for a while. Niki was not going to start this. This needed to be something that Phil started. He was itching to talk to someone about this, and she was willing to wait for him to be ready.

He sighed.

“I never meant to yell at him. Techno…..he does not deserve that. He just doesn’t think things through sometimes. More often than he would like to admit.” A tired chuckle. A humorous less situation, but it made it seem a little less daunting to work with. “He heals faster than normal people, being a piglin and all. Piglins need to heal fast so they can keep living in the Nether. I’m sure that is what happened but….the fact that he was out of bed. It scared me.”

“You were scared for him. That he would hurt himself again?”

“Part of it, yes. I’m scared that he’s going to hurt himself and not tell me. Again.”

Niki cringed back a bit. Every moment when she had been patching up Technoblade flashed through her mind. Every time she had told him that he should call his dad, that they would be able to tell. All of the “I don’t want to bother them”’s echoed through her head.

“I don’t know what I did,” Phil continued, sagging against the stone wall, staring at the lava in front of them, “I must have done something. He left in a hurry. I thought that that was normal. There comes a time in every young adult's life when they want to leave. I understand that. It felt rushed, and I did not want to leave him there, alone, but….

“And then he did not call for months. I thought that he just needed so much space. I just let him be, watching his fights every once in a while, because I was proud of him. He’s making a name for himself. Sure there were a few rough ones, but….he never called. I thought that it was fine.

“Then the next time he calls, he’s bleeding out in his car in the parking lot of his work.”

Niki’s heart dropped. She knew he had been in the hospital, but she had no idea that was how he was found.

“He called, with the most slurred words, I thought he was drunk at first. He had to get a blood transfer when they got him back, cutting off parts of his flesh that were too rotted to be saved. Actually give him stitches, because the ones he had in had torn off. While I just waited. Praying that he would be able to live, so I could tell him…..him…..how much I love him.”

Tears started down his face again, glistening in the light of the lava. Leaning his head back until it was against the wall.

“I don’t think I even apologize for yelling at him. I was…..I was just so scared.”

He seemed so tired. Slightly defeated. But if Niki knew anything about Techno, she knew that that defeat was not going to last. At least for not very long.

A part of her was a little guilty for being angry at him. He had not heard from Techno in months, only to be called when he was bleeding out in his car.

“How has he been?” Phil had turned his head to look at her.

“He’s been doing good. Well, as good as he can get with the job that he has. It keeps him busy most of the time, and he works long hours, but he likes his job. When he is back at the apartment, he does well. He’s been teaching Ranboo how to fight when he learned that he’s been bullied.”

Phil chuckled, turning his head to look out into the lava again.

They basked in silence for a while, listening to the silent bubble of the hot rock, feeling the heat on their skin. It was nice.

“Do you think I’m a bad father?”

***

All of the rage from before had disappeared completely, leaving Phil sad, and slightly hollow. The fact that he had not apologized burned deep in his mind. The sound of his own footsteps leaving the house, while his son stewed in unspoken words, and regrets. That was something that Phil never wanted to put onto Techno. The piglin deserved the world.

He waited for a response, patiently. It was not an easy question to answer. But he trusted that Niki would answer it truthfully, even if he had just met her.

It was nice. Sitting next to a lava pool, deep underground, venting his emotions to someone who would listen. It was something that he was not used to doing. Cathartic, in some kind of fucked up way. Even when they had just met, Niki and Ranboo had already done so much for their family. Phil could only hope to pay them back somehow.

“I think you are a good father,” Niki said. Phil would have been lying if he were to say that he was not surprised by the answer. A darker part of him was really starting to doubt that. “I think that you want to keep your sons safe, and I do not think that you try to hurt them.

But, I think that you are distant. Techno needs someone who is going to approach him about things. He’s not going to open up about things if he is not sure that he is safe. And I’m sure he feels safe around you, but something people need a reminder.”

Another loose chuckle.

“When Techno was a kid, he was so outgoing. Always willing to fight everything that was in his path, even going out of his way to fight things. Every night I would have to tell him ‘show me all of your hurts’ and patch them up because I knew that he would just let them fester and…..”

His voice trailed off as his thoughts left. This was hard. Everything about this was hard.

With a solid shake of his head, the avian started to pull himself to his feet.

“We should start heading back. I have an apology to give. And a piglin to make sure does not get himself killed.”

He offered a hand down to Niki. Giggling, she took it.

“He does have a very bad sense of when he needs to be taken care of.”

“That idiot child.”

Phil turned to face her completely. He trusted her. Not only with himself, but, more importantly, with his sons. There were not many people that he trusted so fast, but he could see why Techno liked her.

He had no doubt in his mind that if he started spewing bullshit, that she would have been fast to correct that. That was something he could respect. Admire, more like.

Bending down, Phil picked up his sword, and started to make his way out of the cave, Niki close behind him. And this time, he kept his eyes out for her, making sure not to forget that she was there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was actually debating on having a huge scene where Phil and Niki just scream at each other, but I kind of like this better. Even when they are both angry, they are angry for the same reason: because they care about Techno. And I think that the both of them understand that, and would want to make the situation better, rather than just scream at each other for wanting the exact same thing.
> 
> HOWEVER, I did think of some pretty good lines that I might put in one of my other Dream SMP fics, so they are going to be recycled. Trust me, some of them were painful. One being (by Phil):
> 
> "You got to see him! I had to wait until he was bleeding out in a car to even get a call from him. I had to watch a show to make sure that he was still alive, and when I finally got a call he almost wasn't! So you don't get to decide what is and is not fair."
> 
> Next chapter will probably be more angsty.


	11. That Hated Part of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised angst, and I am someone who fulfills their promises. Not the angstiest out there, but trust me, this series is not done yet, and there will be plenty of opportunities for angst.
> 
> Actually beta read this one for once! I am going to try to get into that habit, rather than just running it through Grammarly, just because I think that would be beneficial to improving. But we'll see if I actually keep up the motivation.
> 
> And now back to your regularly scheduled program.

Technoblade was a warrior. Ever since the first moment where he picked up a sword, that was what he had been. Strong, and formidable, smart and courageous. Analyzing the opponent to find the best way to defeat them, before going in for the kill with calculated risk, and immense amounts of skill.

That was how he fought when he was in control of himself. The keyword being, when.

Because alongside being a warrior, Technoblade was also a piglin. A fierce, and hostile Nether race, that was known for picking fights with anyone who so much as looked at them the wrong way.

Even after Techno had been granted Playerhood by the Lonely King, he still had those instincts that pledged him. Always lurking just under his skin. And they had only gotten worse as he got older.

The first time he had almost killed one of his brothers, he had been eight years old. Tommy was still a toddler, bouncing around on unsteady legs, just the determination alone being the only thing that was keeping him upright. And Wilbur was around Techno’s age, getting adopted a few years after he had. They had been play fighting in the front yard of their house, Phil bouncing a small Tommy on his knee while watching his other two boys practice with their wooden swords.

It had been nothing special that had triggered the instincts. A swipe down with the fake blade, a turn of the foot to shift his weight, and then his vision went red. Before him was a target, and that was all. Not his brother, but someone who needed to die. And he was willing to do that.

A hit too hard, rattling Wilbur’s brain to the point that he had a concussion after, and the boy fell to the ground, clenching his now bleeding head, crying, as Techno lifted up his sword, determined to put it through his brother, no matter how dull the blade was.

Phil was not a moment too soon, tackling Techno to the ground, and putting him in a lock, forcing his hand to drop the sword. He was much too strong for an eight-year-old, no matter what race he was. That had snapped him out of him, lured back to the world by his father’s voice, before the red disappeared, and he was left with the dull pain of being in a lock.

He cried out at first, begging his dad to let him up. Slowly, Phil let the piglet go, cautious, before turning to Wil, to deal with the profuse bleeding that was coming out of his head.

It took Techno a moment to realize what had happened. What he had done, and once he did, he remembered feeling disgusted. Like he was going to throw up when his own actions started at him right in the face, in the form of his crying brother.

He had bolted to his room after that, burying his head into the pillow, trying to block out the memories of what he had done.

It had been late the next day by the time he had finally let Phil in, curled up in the corner of his room, eyes blankly looking at the floor in front of him, not even daring to look at his father. And even after that, all it took was one touch from the avian for the piglet to completely break down, jumping into Phil’s arms, burying his face into his father’s shoulder, begging for forgiveness.

He had been forgiven, easily, even though he still begged for it from Wilbur, tears rolling down his face. And it took a few days for him to feel like he deserved to eat again, after some coaxing from his father and brother, Techno was back to normal.

But the memory never left him.

The second time he had lost control, he had been alone. Training had been strictly with Phil since that day, and Techno always made sure to keep a firm wrap on the instincts as he went. He was fifteen when he lost control. Alone. In a tunnel filled with zombies with no way out that he could even start thinking about.

His vision went red, and there were targets in front of him again. Targets that he was able to plow through in no time.

It was there that Techno realized that it was never losing control of something. It was giving in to an ever-present force. A force that was a part of him. Because he felt more alive in that moment than he had in a very, very long time. A hysterical laugh echoed through the cave once he was surrounded by the gore of his rampage, breathing heavy, but feeling like he had finally satisfied a craving he had been having for as long as he could remember, but never knew he had. It felt amazing.

After that day, he made it a habit to go out every other day, and let the instinct run wild. “Solo training” is what he called it. Letting himself be who he was for a few hours while he killed, and killed and killed.

There was only one moment where he almost lost control when training with Phil. He had been nineteen. His improvement was very apparent and astounding, partially from the almost nightly rampages he went on, but also all of the training that he did normally. Phil often commented on how good he was, joking that he would soon beat the ex-adventurer as well.

Wilbur and Tommy watched from the sidelines, Wilbur had been eighteen at the time, while Tommy was fourteen, both hyping up their contender. Wilbur shouted encouragement to Phil saying that “he still got it”, and “don’t let that youngen show you what’s what.” While Tommy screeched “kick his ass Technoblade!” and “fuck the old man up!”

It was all good fun.

Until it wasn’t.

And the worst part was that no one but Techno knew how close it had gotten. How his vision started to edge on red after a completely unremarkable move, almost like letting his instincts take over had started to become a habit. Because it had.

He panicked. Watching as his father turned on his heel, a proud smile on his face before preparing for another attack. Techno wanted to scream. He wanted to warn him. To get the avian away from him, because he was dangerous. He was becoming dangerous!

The red took over his eyes. Just for a second. Like dipping himself into a pool of cold water before immediately coming back up. Techno shoved himself out of the red, ignoring the pounding headache that welcomed him back, and the way that his heart was beating way too fast.

A sharp pain met his back, as Phil threw him down, doing a flourish with his sword to show the end of the fight, while Techno let himself to catatonic. Staring at the floor in front of him, just like when he was eight years old, his own thoughts drowned out the ecstatic shouts from his family.

Years passed in his head, as alternate timelines started to flow through his mind. What if he had not drawn himself out in time? What if he had been too late? Would he be holding the corpse of his father at this moment while his brothers screamed in horror?

What if he let his instincts out again?

“Techno? Mate, you alright?”

Phil’s voice brought him back once again, staring at the ice-blue eyes, framed by locks of blonde hair, with faint drips of sweat shining on his forehead, just under the green striped bucket hat. From one pointed ear was a single dropping emerald. The first one all of his sons had found together while mining, running all of the way home to show their father. He had made it into an earring and had not taken it off since.

If he had been a moment too late, would they be taking that earring off to prepare his body for a grave?

“Looks like you still have some tricks old man,” Techno forced out, taking the hand Phil offered, and pulling himself up. They joined the rest of their family, full of laughter, and celebration, completely oblivious to what Techno had almost done.

After that, things started to change. Not obviously, and not for the rest of the family, but for the piglin. He stopped going out every night and fighting mobs, instead focused on getting smarter, burying himself in fighting techniques and tactics rather than just pure strength of fighting all of the time. More of the philosophy being it, hoping that something would take away the instincts. He read Sun Tzu's “Art of War,” even taking notes on the damn thing.

And everything was fine.

For a while.

Until about half a year later, he started to get an itch that he could not scratch. A craving for the feeling he felt when he saw red. It started small. Something that he could ignore. But quickly grew. Until studying was hard. Then practicing was hard. And then sleeping. Then eating. The instincts burned in him, and he hated it. A piece of him that he used to embrace and love had become the part that he hated the most about himself.

Until it was too much. Until he could only think about how good it would feel to just let the instinct go, and be done with it.

It had been late a night he could not take it anymore, climbing down out of his window like he had so many times before, not moving fast enough. Never moving fast enough!

He ran into the forest and started killing.

He killed everything that he came across, relishing in the way that his vision turned a deep, crimson red. Redder than it ever had been before. Everything was an enemy, and he was going to kill them all. Hostile or not.

The sun rose in a grime sight. Bodies upon bodies, upon bodies of dead zombies, horses, cows, pigs, skeletons, creepers, everything lay dead at the feet of Technoblade. Breathing heavily, all energy gone from the eight-hour non-stop excursion, legs shaking under him from just the pure amount of exhaustion that he felt. And yet he felt alive again. 

Techno snuck back into his room and immediately went to the shower, washing off all of the gore that had stuck to his fur, before going straight to sleep, not leaving his room for the rest of the day. It was the best sleep he had gotten in a while.

He showed concern when his family found the bodies of every living thing in a five-mile radius and faked trying to come up with reasons for the sudden massacre. But he was able to breathe now. Able to eat, sleep, study, train again, with the itch gone, and the craving satisfied.

That lasted a few months. Before the itch started to creep up on him again. Slowly making itself known. 

And the cycle started again.

A sick, twisted cycle, where Techno would push himself as far as he could, going weeks without sleep, days without food, not even leaving his room for entire days, before he could not take it anymore. Something that had been so freeing, that had once had made the piglin feel alive, had now made him a slave. Forced to sneak out in the middle of the night and kill everything he saw just so he could eat again and not feel like a husk of himself.

Techno did not realize he had been crying the entire time until the sun came up, and his head hurt from dehydration.

It was the third time around. He was a few months away from turning twenty-one when the itch started again.

A day before his birthday, Techno broke down crying in his room, clamping a hand over his mouth to muffled the sobs, while his other hand pulled at his fur. It was too much. Everything was too overwhelming, and he just wanted to have a nice birthday. He just wanted to laugh with his family again, spar with his dad and not worry about almost killing the kind man.

They had all shown him concern about the sudden changes in his behavior before, and each time he waved them off. Saying that it was nothing. Or he needed some time alone. Or he was studying. And like the good family they were, they listened, never suspecting what was going on underneath.

He did not deserve them. Not when he had almost killed two out of the three.

He just wanted a nice _fucking_ birthday!

With tears falling down his face, Techno grabbed his sword, and snuck out of his window, retreating to the nearby forest, barely making it before the red took over his vision again. And he started to kill again.

Monotonous, and not even something he enjoyed, just something he had to do in order to keep himself from hurting others.

Dodging in and out of the shadows, Techno looked for new targets, quickly coming upon them, in the form of two things that were standing upright. Details did not really matter when he let his instincts take over, everything that he came across was dead as soon as he saw it anyway.

Gripping his bloodied sword in his hand, the piglin started to sneak his way forward, closer to his targets. He was next to them in no time, still cloaked with shadows, he lifted up his sword, ready for the strike.

When the target made a noise. The things he killed made a lot of noises, but none of them were really important. This one was. Purely because it was so familiar.

It was the laugh of his little brother.

Techno shook his head, trying to dismiss the red.

Nothing.

He tried again.

The sword was coming down.

No

No no no no no no no no

No!

He jerked the sword off of its course at the last moment, feeling a sharp and piercing pain in his leg. Immediately, he was thrown out of the red, and bolted into the forest, running as fast as he could, away from the too familiar voice of Tommy, and some new friend he had made.

Wandering through the forest.

Techno did not stop running until his legs gave out under him. He collapsed to the forest floor, slamming his fists into the ground with frustration, tucking his knees under him, before screaming. An agonizing, heartbroken scream, weighted with the knowledge that he had almost killed every member of his family. Shame and humiliation burned in him, as another scream ripped itself from his throat.

The piglin screamed all night until he felt like his vocal cords were going to snap from the stress, and the sun shone above at high noon.

It was his birthday today.

Techno walked back catatonically, stumbling through the forest. Not only the exhaustion of letting his instincts out, but also just emotional exhaustion. He was so, so tired. It was hard to lift his arms, his head, everything.

He snapped out of it when Tommy threw his arm around the piglin’s neck.

Techno had not been able to look his brother in the eye.

A week after his twenty-first birthday, Techno left, scoring a job with Hypixel, and got an apartment not too far away. Way too small for the large amounts of money he was paying to live there, but it was better than being home. Where he was dangerous to everyone around him. He packed and was gone, the shame still burning through every bit of him.

And now he was back at his childhood home. Sitting in his old bed, with bare, undecorated walls staring at him at all angles, cured with the knowledge that he had tried to kill every person there.

“Blade? Server to the Blade? You there?” Tommy’s voice dragged Techno out of his thoughts, snapping his head to look at his younger brother. A giant grin on his face, while he held a steaming mug of something and a plate piled high with pancakes.

And the only thought that could run through the piglin’s sluggish mind was ‘I almost killed that smile.’

“I got you pancakes with extra chocolate chips, don’t tell Phil, with a whole lotta syrup, and a little bit of cham-o-mile tea, for the sick piglin.”

Tommy set the plate down on his bedside table, before handing the mug over.

Techno’s brain short-circuited, unable to comprehend what he was supposed to do. Just staring at the human with a blank, emotionless expression.

“You’re supposed to take the mug, Big Guy. Come on, my arms can’t hold it all day.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.”

Techno wrapped his hooved hands around the mug, feeling the warmth through the ceramic. His snout twitched with the smell of the soaked herbs, letting it calm his fried nerves. Even though he had just woken up, he felt so very tired.

“Dad will probably be back soon,” Tommy said, still in the room. He was looking his older brother up and down, like he was trying to figure out what part was hurt and how to fix it. It would have been amusing if Techno did not feel so tired. “Well, time for my midday nap.”

And with that loud announcement, Tommy lifted the covers and started to snuggle into the bed with his older brother, gently wiggling by him, being mindful of the different bandages and wounds that adorned his body.

“Since when do you take midday naps?” Techno asked, almost laughing at the antics of the blonde, while the younger started to get situated.

“Since now bitch, goodnight.”

Tommy threw his arms around the piglin, before nudging his head into the older’s chest.

This was something that Techno used to do a lot, especially when he was younger. He would nudge his father and brothers, a sign of affection that just came with being a piglin, giving snout kisses as well. His family accepted them, even picking up on the habits, especially Tommy, since he was adopted so young. But he only really nudged when he was sad, and wanted to be comforted, but did not know how to put it into words.

Techno snorted a bit, taking a sip of the tea.

Too hot.

Oh well.

Gently setting the mug down on the bedside table, Techno wrapped his arms around Tommy, pulling him closer, before shifting down until he was laying down, resting Tommy’s head on his chest. The blonde let out a sigh of contentment, before snuggling into the warmth of his older brother, giving him a light squeeze.

Guilt still burned in Techno’s throat, looking down at the brash, loud, full of life teen that rested on him, knowing how close he had been to holding a corpse in the pale moonlight of his birthday morning. The only hope that Techno would have was to accidentally make the first blow a nonfatal one. There was no doubt in his mind that the agonizing screams of pain would have knocked him out of his red vision in a heartbeat. Even though the thought of running his bleeding brother back to their home, screaming Phil awake, and begging for his father to fix what he had so badly broken made him sick, it would have been better than returning home with a corpse.

His hand started to run a hand through Tommy’s hair, before pressing his snout into the top of his head, trying to pull the boy closer than he already was.

Tomorrow, he could worry about potions, and his manager, and the fact that he had to go back in nine days. Today, he could snuggle with his brother, and act like he had not almost killed every member of his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the way that pig's show love, it is just the cutest thing ever, so you best bet that it is going to be here.
> 
> Headcanon that Tommy picked up on Techno's pig affection ways, because that is really cute, and I think that Tommy would always be looking for nonverbal ways to ask for things rather than having to actually ask for them. Big Men don't ask for cuddles from their older brothers. But they do hop into the nearest bed for midday naps, and if that happens to be your piglin brother's bed, then so be it.


	12. Music Theory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enough people said that the last chapter fulfilled their touch-starved needs that I added it as a tag. Are ya'll's ok?

Wilbur had found Tommy asleep in Techno’s room an hour after Phil had left. Stormed out, with absolute fury written all over his normally kind and gentle face. A part of him wanted to curl up with them, act like all of this was a bad dream, and he had not watched hours of Techno getting hurt on repeat while trying to compile a list of everyone he was going to hurt for hurting his brother….

Even saying it in his head sounded crazy.

They looked all snuggled up and warm. But there was no way that he was going to leave a stranger in their house completely alone. So he shut the door and turned back to the kitchen where Ranboo was finishing up the cleaning.

They both seemed to have similar responses to stress, which was “needing to do something with their hands,” and since the kitchen was dirty, it seemed like the normal thing to do.

Ranboo seemed like a nice kid. Odd, but nice nonetheless. He was more outgoing than people gave him credit for just the way that he was so tall, lanky, and consistently tumbled his hands over each other made him seem more anxious than he actually was. Again, nice.

And now Wilbur was stuck with him.

Great.

The last plate was slid onto the shelves, and the cupboard closed, there was nothing left to do.

“Did you find them?” Ranboo asked, turning to face the musician.

“Yeah, they're both asleep,” Wil ran a hand through his unruly curly hair, pulling on it a little. “Best to let them sleep. Just like them to leave all of the kitchen work to us.”

“Yeah.”

Fuck, how was he meant to interact with a teen? Sure, Wilbur was twenty, barely out of his teen years himself, and he had pretty good social skills, but these were not exactly the most normal circumstances.

“Do you like music?”

Ranboo looked confused.

Wilbur motioned for the hybrid to follow and started up the stairs. Almost silent pad of feet behind him was enough indication that the tall enderman was following.

Pushing open the door to his bedroom, Wil wished he had cleaned a little before bringing someone up, but oh well. It was not a total mess just; he had a bad habit of dropping clothes on the floor instead of putting them in a hamper. It made it a slight pain to pick up when he inevitably had to do laundry, but he was not going to change any time soon.

Kicking a pile of clothes off to the side, Wilbur searched for his guitar, glancing back to see Ranboo had still not come in but was just standing at the doorway.

“You can come in.”

“Oh, right.”

_Jeez, this kid. Oh, there it is._

Wilbur pulled the guitar out of where it had been buried with its stand and settled onto his unmade bed. Ranboo was still looking around, taking in all of the artwork he had collected over the years and the few awards for his music. A PC setup took up the majority of his desk, with foam all over the walls. He had dreams of getting his own studio one day, but until that point, he was fine with recording in his room.

“You’re a musician,” Ranboo said, still taking in everything, but not making eye contact. “That’s cool. Techno always listened to your music while doing the dishes. He says that it’s way less annoying when he does not have to hear the same cord over and over again from above him.”

“Piglin prick.”

He could not help but smile at the comment. It was nice to know his brother still liked his music.

“What’s he like?” Ranboo asked, still standing, “when he’s here?”

“Focused,” Wilbur replied with no hesitation, “driven. If he’s going to do something, he’s going to do it well. Smarter than he would like anyone to know. He reads a lot. Mostly physiology and mythology, especially greek. Sheds all the fucking time though. You’ll find his stupid pink fur just everywhere, covering everything, until you have to tell him every day to 'remember to brush your fur,’ so it does not get everywhere. He’s fucking annoying sometimes.”

There was no way to keep the fondness out of his voice. Wilbur could be sick from how much it dripped out his words. Even with the insults, it was not hard to see that he loved his brother.

“What’s he like when he’s not here?”

“Around the same. He’ll tell a lot of stories, and trains all of the time. He got a two-bedroom apartment just so he could convert one room into a training area.”

“That’s….odd? Shouldn’t the company that he works for provide a place to train? Especially with how popular he is.”

There was a pause, the question hanging heavily in the air.

“Yeah, I guess they should be,” Ranboo said.

“Well, ok look at this,” Wilbur abandoned his guitar, and took the seat in front of his computer, “pull up the stool.”

A wooden bar stool stood next to the desk, the place that Tommy sat when the blonde wanted to annoy him. The enderman put the stool next to the desk, hunching over a bit to see the computer screen.

“I was watching a lot of his fights, and he just seems to get worse as the fights go on. I mean, of course, all of his wounds did not happen all at once, and it must have been a slow build-up of injuries, but….ok just watch.”

Wilbur played a video, professionally taken, but muted. There was Techno, in his normal get-up of royal robes and jewels, swinging a sword with such precision and grace that it could almost be mistaken as a dance.

“I don’t understand….” Ranboo started.

"Just wait. There.”

Wilbur paused the video, backed up a bit, before starting it again. Techno stumbled. His hooved foot gave out under him, just for a second, disgusted as a duck under the swords that was coming for his head. It was not odd that he stumbled. It was odd that he stumbled on nothing. There was nothing nowhere near to his hoof, and he seemed to be in control of the situation.

“I-I don’t understand.”

“That’s not how he fights. He would not stumble. I’ve seen him fight when he could barely keep his eyes open, and he does not stumble.”

“Maybe it was the wound in his leg?”

“That’s the other thing!”

He changed to a spreadsheet. The same one he had spent all night working on. There were names, links, graphs, all spelling obsessive behavior, but Wil was really just happy to tell someone all of this.

“Well, kind of related to wounds, but there are a few times where he is not wearing a respawn star. Most of the time he’ll let it out, just have it over his shirt, but there at least five times where he does not have one on, and every time that happens, he’s fighting multiple people.”

“Is that ever announced? It might be a way to get views up if they announce it.”

“Only once, and it was the very first time they did it. But it got such a backlash from viewers that they never did it again.”

“That’s….odd.”

“And another thing!”

He pulled up a sheet, with a list on it. A weapons list.

“Here are all of the approved weapons that are to be used in the fights. All of them have been deemed safe enough to be used when fighting other people. But, if you look here….”

Another video was pulled up.

“Right there, you can see that guy's hand kind of go through the weapon, before actually grabbing onto it. Meaning that they are using some kind of glamour magic to cover up some kind of weapon. Most likely an illegal one that the company does not want to get caught using, since this list has to be enforced through all of the companies that run fighting pits.”

“So they are using illegal weapons?”

“It seems to be. And pots as well. It’s harder to see, but you can just make out the particles floating off of their bodies. If you don’t know what to look for then it is easy to miss, and they seem to edit the footage to try to erase as much as they can before actually putting out the reruns.

“And it’s not just with Techno’s fights. They are with most of the fights. Just everything seems to come together when it’s Techno fighting. The particles and hands going through weapons that should be a solid piece of metal.”

“So….what does it mean?”

“Oh I have no idea,” Wilbur leaned back in his chair, looking at the spreadsheet, “I don’t have the tech-savviness to look at their private records, or run any kind of background on the fighters, or managers. And if they are being this careful, then there is no way that they would leave anything out that would be easy to find. I can only recognize glamour magic, and potion particles because Phil used to be an adventurer, and taught us all about this kind of stuff.

“But something is going on. Phil mentioned a contract that Techno was signed onto, so that most likely has something to do with it. But he was high on painkillers when he talked about it, and the chances of him talking about it again are slim to none. And forcing him to talk is not the way to go either, he’ll just clam up more. No one should be forced to talk about something that they do not want to talk about. But….”

“You’re worried about him,” Ranboo filled in.

Wilbur nodded. There was a dull ache in his chest. One that had not gone away since they had gotten the call from Technoblade. Something was wrong, but he could not pinpoint what.

“I wish I could just make it all better,” Wilbur’s voice was quiet, almost like they were just quiet thoughts that had somehow found their way to his lips. “Techno puts too much pressure on himself, and I want to help, and I know he wants help, but….I don’t know how to. He means a lot to me. He’s my brother for gods’ sake. And blood family does not mean shit. I mean, my parent’s….

“And then Phil picked me up. He never expected anything in return. He never made me feel guilty for being taken care of. Hell, he never even demanded my respect or trust. He earned that. He earned it with all of us. And Techno has always been there, protecting everyone, and making sure that they are ok, and….I want to do the same in return. Because I care about him.”

The weight of the words drew out silence between them. Wilbur rubbed the tears out of his eyes. Was he really crying in front of this kid he had met this morning? What kind of adult was he?

“Look at me, crying. I’m sorry Ranboo.”

“Oh no, it’s alright,” Ranboo said. He turned to look at the hybrid, still not making eye contact, but fiddling with his hands in his lap. “He cares about you too. He may not say it a lot, but I think he more likes showing he feels rather than telling.”

“Yeah.”

The room was somber. Not so much as uncomfortable, but they allowed the others to roll their thoughts around. A mutual understanding that silence was needed.

“Do you have any song requests?”

***

By the time that Phil and Niki made it back to the house, Phil was exhausted. His little rampage earlier had taken a lot more out of him than he had realized, and the walk back was not helping. He felt dead on his feet by the time they swung the door open. Only to be greeted by the more eerie silence that Phil had heard in his house. Normally if it was this quiet, someone was getting into trouble.

However, these circumstances were unusual as is, so he brushed it off.

The kitchen was clean, obsessively so, their abandoned breakfast put away, and dishes all wash, dried, and put away. Someone was using cleaning to take their mind off of what was happening. Phil had a good idea of who it was, based on the music that was coming from upstairs.

“Feel free to wash up Niki,” the avian said, starting to make his way to the staircase. There was still a lot of gore covering his clothes, various decaying liquids stuck to his skin and hair. He wanted to get them off before he apologized to anyone. It did not seem like the best decision to walk into Techno’s room covered in guts and blood. “There should be one connected to the guest room.”

“Thank you, Phil.” She sounded as tired as he felt. And it was only noon. Gods this day was going on for forever.

With a nod, Phil started his way up the stairs, making sure to grab some spare comfy clothes from his room before heading to the bathroom. He wanted to be clean, and then he would deal with….everything. With the way that Wilbur’s door was closed, he would have to check up on that son as well, adding to the list of things to do.

Taking a deep breath, Phil slipped out of his blood-stained clothes, letting them just rest on the bathroom floor, turning on the water so it could have a chance to heat up.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. It was funny, the avian did not think he had seen himself since this mess started almost four days ago. It was kind of obvious he had not been getting much sleep since then. Dark bag hung under his eyes, with greasy hair stringing down his face. His wings were a mess. Normally he made it a habit to preen at least twice per day, sometimes more, but it had been days since he had even touched the feathers. Scars still littered his body, some deeper than others, some still holding the painful memories of when they were placed on his body. It’s not like he minded his scars, they were accomplishments, things he had done in his life that meant he had lived a full life. He did not regret any moment of his life.

That was a lie.

Shaking the thoughts out of his head, Phil stepped into the shower, ruffling his wings a bit, and letting the water drip in between the feathers. It did not matter if they got messed up here, he needed to preen anyway, so he could give them a proper wash. The hot water felt nice on his bare skin, and for a moment, just a moment, he felt relaxed, letting the tension fall from his shoulders, a tense feeling he did not realize he had been carrying with him.

His mind started to drift a bit letting himself move through the motions of washing, taking care of his hair, spreading his feathers, scrubbing at the dried blood. It wasn’t about anything in particular, which he could not help but be grateful for. His head felt overworked as is, and it did not need memories looping through it.

Instead, it was a peaceful kind of silence. Almost catatonic. He wanted sleep, but there was no way that he was going to get that. Not now.

He was sorer than he had been in a very long time. The guilt of losing his temper still burned deep in his stomach. Phil did not like losing his temper. Especially when it was his sons, they did not deserve that. He had prevented from making the issue worse but beyond that, he had still caused damage.

With a deep sigh, the avian shook his wings, turned off the water, and started to dry himself off, slipping into dark forest green jogger pants, and a loose gray t-shirt, repeating a mantra over and over in his head.

‘Everything is going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine…..”

Throwing the now stained clothes in the hamper in his bedroom, Phil started to the closest and most likely to be festering problem: Wilbur.

Music still drifted lazily from the room, more relaxed than Phil would have thought, but maybe that was a good thing? Doubted it, but it might be good.

Holding his breath, he rapped his knuckles on the door.

There was a pause.

“Come in.”

Phil slowly opened the door, trying to not make too many sudden movements, like he was dealing with an angry animal. But he had already made enough mistakes for one day, he did not need more to his name.

Wilbur’s room was as messy as ever, but it worked for him and Phil never saw the need to force his sons to keep their own private rooms a certain way. His computer was turned on, a faint stream of light cast out in front of it. Sitting on Wilbur’s bed was the man himself, but as well as Ranboo, who was holding a piece of paper tapping a pen to the side of his face every once in a while.

Wilbur perked up when Phil walked in, lowering the guitar from where he had been strumming.

“Hey.”

There was a vague hint of hurt that was buried deep, deep in Wil’s voice. Phil cringed at hearing it, but continued, making sure to stay in the doorway and not actually step into the room.

“Hey, Wil and Ranboo,” gods this was a lot harder than he had originally thought. “Is everyone…..ok?”

Wilbur’s face hardened a bit before turning to mess with the pegs of the instrument.

“Yeah, they should be fine after you left.”

“Wil, I….” _don’t be defensive_ , his brain helpfully advised, “You’re right. I should not have lost my temper the way that I did. And I’m sorry for that.”

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to Techno.”

Yeah, that was fair. Giving a nod, Phil started out of the room, closing the door behind him.

“Love you, dad.”

It felt like a hit on his chest, tears started to well up in his eyes only realizing then how much he needed to hear those words.

“Love you too Wilbur.”

Clicking the door closed, Phil let the breath out.

One down. Two to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting better. Slowly, but they are getting there.
> 
> Even though there is still a bit to go with this series, I am still thinking like "oh god what am I going to do when I finish it? What am I going to do with all of my free time?" Work on other writing projects that I have going? No, I'm going to expand on another one-shot. I don't think I can write one-shots, my brain it too active all of the time, and I need more hurt/comfort.


	13. Hard Conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was actually hard to write. I think I went back and edited it like three times before I was actually happy with it. And this chapter is extra-long, as payment for being gone for 4 days.
> 
> Happy late birthday to Philza, and I am so glad that nothing else sad happened yesterday, that everything is just normal, and no major characters are dead. :)
> 
> Also, 10/10 title, so creative, wow, the most creative out of all of the titles that I have made, I should win a Nobel Peace Prize for that one

It was hours later before Techno woke up. Tommy was still asleep, tucked under his arm, with his head on the piglin’s chest. The teen was holding him tight around the waist, even if his arms were too short to go all the way around. It was warmly snuggled up to each other, with the blankets wrapped tight around the two.

The curtains were still close, a dark warm cave, where they were safe. The strength potion had taken a lot out of more, more than Techno had been expecting. It had worn off by now, and his muscles felt like they were going to tear off of his bones. His joints had been filed down until they were paper thin, barely keeping him together. Everything hurt. Even after sleeping for so long, he was tired.

And hungry.

Turning his head to look at the pancakes on his bedside table, he could see that there were far too many chocolate chips on it, the sticky syrup most likely glued to the plate. The tea was cold as well. Techno really wanted to get something to eat, he could feel the growing pit in his stomach, and he was hoping to not completely rely on straight potion. If he could get at least a little bit of his body healed before he went back, then it would be better than taking a barely held-together puppet into battle. But Tommy’s soft, deep breathing made him stop from just throwing his younger brother off, something he would have done in the past.

He just seemed at peace. Calm. Techno’s life had lacked calm as of recently. It was something that he found himself wanting again.

A very big part of him was tempted to just stay. Let his body recover, and let the contract be terminated. His reputation, demolished. Sure he would never be able to sign with any other companies ever, but would that really be that bad?

Tommy shifted, burying his face deeper into Techno’s side, groaning a bit as he started to come to consciousness.

There was so much trust that his younger brother was having in him right at that moment. Trust that Techno would not kill him. 

No, he could not stay here. They were almost through their ninth day, and there was still a lot of convincing that he needed to do. 

Tommy groaned again, rubbing his face against the piglin’s fur, before lifting his head, pressing his eyes with a hand. His hair was a mess, stretching out his arms, with a wide yawn.

“Sup bitch.” Tommy nudged the older’s chest, before swinging his legs over the side of the bed, effectively breaking their little cocoon was warmth and safety.

Techno grunted in response.

Tommy looked at the plate on the bedside table, scrunching his nose at the hardened syrup and cold tea.

“Time to speedrun cleaning this plate before Phil realizes what a mess it is, eh?” he took the plate in one hand, and picked up the tea, “I’ll be back with something else to eat. You stay here.”

“Tommy….”

The blonde stopped, turning to face his older brother. Techno did not say it very much. In fact, he didn't remember the last time had said that he loved his family. Much like Tommy, he preferred to tell them in more nonverbal ways. The words always got stuck on his tongue, and came out in the wrong way. It was one of the very, very few things that he and Tommy could actually agree on.

Snuggling, for them, had been very common when they had been kids. When either one had a nightmare, and Phil was away, or they just did not feel like bothering their father, they would find themselves snuggling up to each other. Never any judgement, or explanation needed. And as they got older, the midnight visits became less and less frequent. But there were times when he got close. A week after Techno had almost killed Phil. He had been pledged with nightmares up until then, and this one had been the worst. His mind had long since blocked it out, but all he could remember was that it had been bad.

He had stood outside of Tommy’s door for way too long. Almost an adult, and he was running to his younger brother's room for comfort with a nightmare.  
Eventually, he returned to his room, crying into his pillow before sleep took him again.

Techno hated that his mind seemed perma-stuck on death, blood and killing. It seemed like every night he had stuck in a hellscape of his own making. And last night (or morning, as the night was still creeping towards them) had been the first time he had actually gotten some good sleep, snuggled up to his younger brother.

What had he done to deserve such a brother?

“Nothing.” The words got stuck.

“I’ll be right back” Tommy said, turning and heading out of the door.

The room became a little colder once he was left alone. His brain was still foggy and tired. This all was temporary. Being here in this house. It had always been temporary. The deadline for him returning to the Hypixal seemed both so close and so far away. As soon as he would get comfortable with being home, he would have to leave again. And that terrified him to no end.

Struggling, he started to sit himself up more, the same kind of exhaustion and pain settling in again. He needed to take some more pain meds the pain was slowly starting to creep back.

The rest of the straight potion was in the drawer of his bedside table. Not very much of it was gone the potion had barely touched his tongue before it took effect. A rush of artificial adrenaline pulsing through his veins filling him with a false sense of normality, selling the lie that he was ok. It had been invigorating. A guilty part of him had enjoyed it. A more scared part of him could see how this was a slippery slow these potions were. 

Because now he knew he could drive himself into the ground, break his body to the brink of hospitalization, and then be fine. A single sip from a potion would make it feel like he was all better.

And that was the lie. Making him feel like he was better. He was not better. His body was still as broken as it had been before, and as soon as the potion wore off, he would be in a lot of trouble.

And the fact that he had picked up a taste for the power that the potion gave scared him. It scared him more than he would like to admit. He needed to keep it under control. It might have been great that one time, but he had no idea how his body was going to react to it again. And again. And again.

As long as he kept a handle on it, he would be fine.

Right?

***

Phil slowly descended the stairs, trying to make, at least, a little bit of a plan before facing his other two sons. Sure, his conversation with Wilbur had not gone too bad, but it could have gone better. He could do better. Especially since he was going to be talking to Techno.

He shuttered thinking about the damage that he caused there. The way that the piglin dropped his eyes, refusing to look at him as he completed with the order. Shuffling his feet as they had guided him back to his room. No part of Phil was proud of how that ended. Especially when there was such a simple answer to why Techno was able to be better so fast: he was a piglin. Piglins healed faster than most humans and even hybrids did. This was something that Phil knew, they had dealt with it before. Sure, it seemed a little fast, even with Techno’s fast healing, to be up and around, but the ability had only gotten better as the piglin had gotten older. Technoblade was only twenty-one after all. Even with most of his growing over, piglins continued to mature even past their teen years.

So why did Phil have a creeping feeling that he was wrong?

The avian shook his head, starting to walk down the stairs again from where he had been standing still for the past few minutes. He had an apology to give.

The stairs ended right next to Technoblade’s door. But there were noises further down the hall, the first sounds he had heard since he had been back. Whether it had been wanting a bit more time to think, or actually wanting to see who was in the kitchen, Phil skirted around the banister and moved towards the kitchen.

Tommy was in front of the sink, vigorously scrubbing at something, while a pot of water and kettle boiled on the stove. His mouth was drawn out into a thin line, with a mess of his hair plopped on his head, obviously not brushed. He worked diligently, not noticing his father's purposefully heavy footsteps until he spoke.

“Tommy,” the boy flinched, almost dropping the plate. Another shot of guilt ran through Phil, only adding to the ocean he felt.

“Jesus Christ! Give a man some warning before you just sneak up on him like that,” he almost shouted, a fabrication of his normal cadence. That was obvious on how he still shrank away from his father, curling up a bit, and casing his eyes back down to the soapy water.

Phil took a breath. It’s ok. He could fix this. He had to fix this.

“Tommy,” the avian approached him, making sure not to smother the boy, standing just outside of the kitchen, leaving enough room for him to leave if he wanted. Tommy was aware that someone was approaching him, sending glances to his father, but ultimately returning his hands, trying to keep them busy. “I’m sorry.”

The youngest bottom lip immediately started to quiver, tears collecting at his eyes, creating a watery film around them, and his hands stopped moving. His posture hunched even more, pressing his mouth closed, desperate to keep himself from crying.

Phil continued.

“I should not have yelled. That was the wrong way for me to react, especially when everyone was so stressed. I think….I was just scared. But that is still no excuse. And I’m sorry for leaving. I did not want to make things worse than I already had, but it must have been hard for all of you to pick up the pieces, and….I’m sorry for that.”

Tommy had completely frozen. Staring blankly at the water in front of him. Not moving, barely even breathing.

“Tommy?”

There was a heartbroken, shaky sob that tore its way out of his throat. The blond’s hands flew to his mouth, just a moment too late to catch the sob.

“Oh, Tommy.”

For the first time, the blonde looked at his father. Phil opened his arms, offering a soft, sad smile.

Tommy crashed into his father’s arms, clinging desperately to his shirt, while salty water started to slide down his face, in sad slow tears. He did not sob anymore, just snuggled up into the man’s tight, safe embrace, letting the fabric take his tears. Phil wrapped his wings around them, creating a little bubble of safety for the two, away from the rest of the world, where his son could feel safe to cry in his arms.

“I don’t want Techno to die,” Tommy whispered through the pain that was stuck in his voice. He sounded so scared. So incredibly scared.

“Hey. He’s not going to die. He’s here now. He’s safe. We’re all safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to him.”

“He almost died. He almost died in my arms when we were driving to the hospital. I thought….I thought…..”

“Shhh, Tommy, it’s ok.”

“I thought he was never going to be able to tell us a story ever again. Or tell me what an idiot I am being. Or just be the annoying know it all prick that he is. And all I could think about was every time that I annoyed him, and I….I….”

“Tommy, listen to me,” Phil started to card his hands through the thick blonde hair, lightly scratching at his scalp to try to calm the boy down, rubbing smooth circles into his back. “Technoblade is ok. He’s safe now. All of that was fucking terrifying, and I am going to do everything that I can to make sure that it never happens again. I know, I know it was scary, and you were so brave. You did so well. Techno could never hate you. No matter how much you might annoy him, he loves you and always will. And I love you.”

“I love you too dad.”

Phil’s chest swelled with joy, mixing with the sadness to make something that hurt a little less. Two down, one to do.

The two of them stayed like that for a little longer, before Tommy pulled away, and Phil let him go.

“Ugh, no more pussy shit for a while, I’ve had my fair share for a week,” the teen mumbled, wiping the tears from his eyes, before going to meet Phil’s.

He laughed. An actual laugh.

“What are you making?” Phil glanced at the stove behind him.

“Mac n’ Cheese. Techno is awake, and is hungry, even if he does not want to say it. And chamomile tea.”

Techno was awake.

Phil patted Tommy on the shoulder, giving a heartfelt smile.

“Make sure you make enough for everyone. I’m sure they’re all hungry.”

“What am I? The maid?”

Phil laughed again. Things were starting to get back to normal. Slowly. One more conversation.

Tommy looked at him with a large smile, trying to school it into a frown, but was clearly failing. This was good. There was that sparkle in his blue eyes again.

“I’m going to go check on Techno,” Phil said.

The smile dropped. Not in a sad way. He understood. Tommy gave a nod, before turning on his heel to rummage through the cupboards to get more ingredients. The suffocating silence was gone. Tommy hummed a song while he moved.

The door was in front of him again. The dark of night was starting to settle onto the sky. It had been a long day. And Phil knew that he could not leave this for a day. One more. Just one more.

Ignoring the rising panic in his chest, he rapped his knuckles against the door.

Waited.

Wait.

“Come in.”

He filled his lungs, let the breath out, and opened the door.

Hot and dark, just like it always was. Techno was sitting up, twisting his hands around each other, nervously looking at Phil, before turning his eyes away.

Phil found himself frozen. For no good reason either. His feet were stuck to the ground, refusing to take another step closer to his son. He was so scared. What if Techno did not forgive him? What if he had done something to make his son distrust him so much? Why was he so overwhelmed? What if he….really was just a bad father?

Maybe it was fear, or maybe it was the crushing grief that shoved him forward, closing the door behind him.

He needed to start somewhere. An apology seemed as good of a place as any.

“Techno,” his voice did not sound like his own. Phil cleared it, before trying again. “Techno, I….I’m sorry.” The words started to spill out of his mouth, faster than he could keep up. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. It is not something that you needed, especially after getting hurt so bad, and I really am sorry. I was just….very scared. That you were going to hurt yourself again, and did not….show that in the right way. And I’m sorry for that.

“But….Techno you know that I am going to be here if you need help right?”

“Yeah.”

***

Techno hated those eyes. Those icy blue eyes that looked at him with so much trust that he did not earn when he was about to bull face lie to his own father. They were partial truths, technically true, but not the whole reason. The real reason burned in his stomach with shame. He was a danger. A monster. He had been told time and time again. And he knew that Phil would need an explanation on why he thought that.

But it was the truth, was it not?

And he was not ready. He was not ready for the disappointment, the fear, the disgust in his father’s face. He had seen it so many times in strangers, and that had hurt enough. Seeing it in the eyes of his father, Techno knew that he would not be able to handle that. So he swallowed the shame and spoke again.

“I’m sorry for leaving so fast.”

Phil looked shocked. His messy wings ruffling a bit at the words. He looked….confused. Above all. Almost taking a step back from his son, like that would give him more perspective on what was going on. On what had possessed his child to apologise to him. But it had been words that rolled around in Techno’s head for a while. Phil deserved an apology. He had for a while now. Running away from his shame had seemed like such the right thing to do at the moment, and part of him did not regret it.

Part of him saw the hurt in Phil’s eyes when he had walked him to the portal every day.

“It’s alright Techno,” Phil said, retaking that step towards him again, “I just want you to be safe, and that I am going to be here if you ever need me. I want to help. And now just when you are bleeding out in a car, preferably before then, because that really scared me. That scared all of us. And it was not your fault, but…..please.”

Techno wondered what his father was thinking when he squeezed his eyes shut. He hoped that it was not to hold back tears because that was what he was doing. He hated, hated lying to his father. He wanted this conversation to be over. He wanted it over now.

“I’ll do better,” he said, his voice choking on tears.

“You don’t have to do better. That’s not what this is about. This is about you knowing and feeling like you can come to me if there is a problem. And if you don’t feel like you can, then there is something that I need to change, because I want you to know that I am always going to be proud of you. And that you can come to me when you feel overwhelmed.”

This conversation needed to be over. Now. Techno could feel the words at the back of his throat, threatening to spill themselves at any moment. He clenched his teeth together and gave a nod.

“Techno?”

“I love you, dad.”

He was done. He was so fucking tired. And he needed this to be over.

“I love you too Techno.”

A silence fell over the two. One filled with unspoken words that neither of them had brought up. Filled with the conversations that they were meant to have, but Techno had stopped. The one that he backed out of. Conversations were hard to have when one of them was so burdened with grief and shame that they had the words suffocated out of them. Conversations did not have happened when someone was too scared of the outcome to even start one.

Conversations did not happen with Techno that day.

Slowly, Techno let out a breath, trying to make it as not audible as possible.

“I’m sure you feel gross. How about you go take a bath. Tommy is making some dinner, and we can all watch a movie after?”

He melted at the suggestion. Anything to distract him from what was going on.

“Ok. I’ll start running some water for you. Stay here until I get back, and I’ll help you up.”

“Phil, I got it.”

There was a piercing silence that draped over them. Phil chewed on his bottom lip. Icy blue eyes looking him up and down, analyzing every bit. He stalled at where he knew the major wounds were.

“I know you heal faster than humans and hybrids do,” Phil’s words were slow, like he was picking out each and everyone with all of the care in the world, “but you still are moving too fast. Just…..please let me help you.”

Techno hated the desperation in his eyes. Hated that he was making it easier for Techno to lie. The strength potion burned on his bedside table, acutely aware of where it was, and what he was going to need to do.

With a reluctant nod, Phil returned the gesture and walked out of the room.

Techno buried his face into his hands, trying to hold back the waves of overwhelming emotions that were swirling his head. He had lied. Fucking lied to his father, Philza, one of the most kind and caring people out there. Who had taken him in out of the kindness of his heart, treated and raised him as a son rather than the wild mob he was, and here was lying to the man. And for what? To go back to a job that he would have to break himself to perform in? To keep the secret that he was a danger to everyone around him.

It was selfish. He had lied because he was afraid. Afraid of what was going to happen when, not if, when Phil found out what a danger he was. Throw him out. Disown him. Never want to see his face again. It terrified him. And when with the secret burning holes in his throat, Techno kept his mouth shut. A little while longer. He could tell them later. Right now, he wanted to wash the lie off of his fur.

Fishing the strength potion out of his bedside table, he took a sip, breathing in the power that jolted through him. Yeah, that power could be addicting. He needed to keep a handle on it, for everyone's sake.

Phil walked back in, silently tucking himself under Techno’s arm, and stretching an arm to reach across his shoulders. Giving a soft count to three, he heaved the piglin up onto his hooves. He was more stable on his feet. His body was starting to recover naturally, as well as the added help from the potion he was getting. Not a lot, and the potion was doing most of the work, combined with Phil, but it gave him the smallest bit of hope that he would be completely healed in nine days. Eight days, today was almost over.

The duo started to make their way to the stairs. Steady in the way that Phil spread out his wings a bit to balance the two. Techno was holding himself up better than either of them expected, but neither said anything. They could hear the quiet hum of Tommy from the kitchen, switching between humming the tune of one of his discs, and a song that Wilbur had written. It was nice to hear again. The teen did not like silence most of the time, often filling it with some kind of noise, a habit that Techno had picked up after sixteen years of living with his brother.

Just as Phil had said, there was hot water in the tub, with a pile of fresh clothes on the counter. The steam felt nice on his tired bones.

“I’ll get some more bandages, and we’ll redress your wounds when you're done. Don’t take off the bandages, just clean around them,” Phil said, his voice much too quiet and monotone.

Techno nodded, still not meeting his father’s eyes.

“Call me if you need any help.”

And then he was alone. In the steamy, hot bathroom, with two more wounds to undress and clean. It had been a while since he had cleaned himself. The last time had been the night before he had been sent to the hospital, so he still had the remnants of battle still stuck to him. The blood had been washed off, obviously, but the dirt was still there. He cringed to think what his bed looked like, but had a sneaking suspicion that Phil would use this time to clean it.

He sighed an exhausted sigh, setting down the straight potion he had brought with him, just in case the previous sip wore off, and set it down on the counter with a clink. Techno did not want to think, he wanted his mind to shut up actually, and just let him have a bath, take all of the grime off of his fur.

Everything felt like the verge of too much. Like a cup that had been filled too much, and one more drop would make it overflow. Except he had no idea how much more he could take. The words were on the edge of his tongue, so, so close to spilling everything to Phil. And yet something was keeping him from doing it, forcing him to keep the words under lock and key behind his teeth and tusks, and wait.

Sinking into the warm water, Techno tried to distract his mind from the constant buzz. He wanted to get through the rest of today with his mind off. Maybe that he would be able to find some peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhh boy.
> 
> I did mild amounts of research, for anyone who cares, Techno had gauze dressings, so they are going to get changed a LOT, and you can also take a bath with them on. Two things that I did not know, and had to change some stuff for. Being a writer makes you smarter.


	14. The Healing Powers of Mac n' Cheese

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I say that I had a hard time sleeping last night because I was so excited to write this chapter, I mean that. I am that big of a nerd.

_That was….not the way that I wanted that to go_ , Phil thought to himself, pulling the sheets off of the bed. A conversation had happened, but it had not been constructive, and they were not closer to fixing the problem than they were before. Something was being held back. He could feel it. And while part of him was desperate to fix the problem, no matter what, he still did not want to force Techno to do anything. But at what point was this secret he was keeping too dangerous?

Shaking his head of the thoughts, Phil gathered up the rest of the blankets and started to make his way to the laundry room, which was just across the hall. More alive sounds were echoing through the house, like there had been that morning. Just as loud and excited as before. Shoving the bedding into the washer and starting it, Phil wondered his way back to the kitchen.

Tommy was there, furiously trying to grab a package of pasta from Wilbur, who held it just out of reach for the teen. Ranboo stood near on the opposite side of the kitchen, washing off some tomatoes, with the most bemused look on his face. The living room and kitchen were very open to each other the only thing separating the two was a tall counter where the sink was, which was where Niki stood, covering her mouth to try to muffle the giggles.

“Wilbur you rat bastard, _ohhhh_ , don’t make me do something that I am going to regret in twenty years!”

“Yea? Yea? What are you going to do ‘big man innit?”

“You don’t even want to know, you smug bastard you.”

Phil walked in, watching the scene from afar, taking a place next to Niki.

“Are they always like this?” she asked, still looking very amused.

“Oh yeah, this normal,” which was a relief to see some semblance of normality today. He had been worried that they would never be able to have any sort of normal ever again. This was refreshing to see. “Will you be staying for dinner? You’re more than welcome.”

“I think we might, but after that, we should head back. Even if we want to stay, the bakery still needs to be run.”

“Oh, you run a bakery?”

“Family business. Me and my brothers all run it together. Currently, there is only one over there, but he has to keep it closed since it would be too much to keep open by himself.”

“What’s it called, if I might ask?”

“L’Manburg. My other brother, Fundy, came up with the name.”

“Wow, you have quite a lot of siblings.”

“Oh yes. It’s me, Ranboo, Fundy, and Er….”

“Get off of me! Phil! Wilbur’s being mean,” Tommy whined, trying to wiggle his way out of the headlock that Wilbur had wrestled him into.

“Alright you two, break it up,” Phil stepped forward to the chaotic scene. Wilbur slowly let the youngest go, making sure to not allow him to get any potshots as he did. Ranboo seemed to be the only one doing any work, knife in hand, and cutting some tomatoes. He fit right in with the two, glowering in annoyance but also slight amusement. “What are the tomatoes for anyway?”

“Wilbur insisted on putting them on top of the Mac n’ Cheese because he wanted to be ‘fancy’” Tommy animated, sticking his tongue out at Wilbur, “and then made poor Ranboo do all of the work.”

“I would have helped if you would let us concentrate.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! Whose idea was it to even start making dinner? Where would you be without me?”

“Alright, alright,” Phil took a step in between the two boys, pushing them back from each other, “Tommy you finish making dinner, I trust you not to put salt on everything. I doubt anyone is going to want to go to sleep, so we’re going to watch a movie. Wilbur if you want to pick out something to watch.”

“Yeah, bitch get out of the kitchen! Ranboo and I got it from here,” Tommy yelled and basically shoved Wilbur out of the room.

“I am going to where my talents are more needed,” he scoffed, “Niki, you’re helping me with movies.”

“O-oh, ok.”

Slowly, they all started to meander off to their tasks, Wilbur making small talk with Niki, while Tommy, in complete Tommy fashion, started to make chaos, dragging Ranboo along for the ride.

It was painfully normal. Normal in the way that the two siblings slipped right into their family. Normal in the way that Phil took one last look back at them, before heading up the stairs. It had been a while, and Techno was going to need his dressings changed soon and it was better to do that when they were wet and would slide right off.

Gods, there was still so much work to be done. And his wings were starting to ache with annoyance with how much he was neglecting them. That was a problem for later. Much later.

“Techno….?” he called through the door, knocking at the same time, “we’re going to have to redress your wounds, and it’s best to do when they are wet.”

There was a grunt on the other side of the door, faintly hearing the sound of water draining, before an almost timid “come in.”

As slowly as he could, Phil opened the door. Techno was standing up, much to Phil’s dismay, but at least leaning against the counter. Deep breaths rattling through him. His legs shook slightly, but that was to be expecting with the amount of strain the piglin insisted on putting on his body. He did not have a shirt on but did have loose black sweatpants on. Remnants of gauze laid on the counter, with a new roll torn into.

“I….already redressed my thigh, but I’m probably going to need help with the others,” he panted.

“Come on,” Phil said, grabbing the gauze, “let’s get to work. The sooner this is done, the sooner you can rest.”

“I just got done resting.”

“And you’re going to do more. That’s what happens when you get hurt. It’s an excuse to be as lazy as possible, and not have to worry about it. That’s the best part.”

“Sounds like you know from experience.”

“Don’t tell my secrets to anyone.”

The piglin snorted a bit with laughter, getting up to sit on the counter with minimal struggle and help from Phil, before the avian set to work on the gauze. They mostly slid right off, loosened by the water, although he had to tug a few times. The fur around the wounds had been shaved off, just to make them easier to work with, so it was clear to see how irritated and red it was. But they looked better. As better as they could be.

There was already saline solution out, dabbing it around the wounds, making sure to not be too rough with them, before packing the gauze back in and placing the bandage over them again.

Techno’s fur looked better as well. No longer dotted with dirt and grime. All around, Techno looked better. His eyes had a new shine to them, and the bags under his eyes were less dark and dragged.

A conversation needed to happen. Later. Right now, all Phil wanted to do was preen his wings, watch a movie and eat Mac n’ Cheese.

They had worked in complete silence, Techno leaning into the touch whenever Phil brushed his arms, eyes half laden. He looked ready to fall asleep. The feeling was mutual.

“Come on,” Phil said, once again tucking himself under Techno's arm, and grabbed onto him. He looked shocked for a second before following his father’s lead, sliding off of the counter, and starting to make their way down the stairs.

There was an alive buzz through the main foyer. Oddly calming. Tommy and Ranboo were filling bowls with food, and placing them on the counter, while the large couch and space surrounding it had covered in blankets, and pillows. Wilbur was adjusting a few more comfy things when the duo stepped in.

Everyone was silent. Turning to face them with shocked, sad expressions. Time froze for a second. Phil could feel Techno starting to shrink back into his shell, wanting to get away from all of the eyes that were on him. He had never done well under pressure.

Tommy was the first one who spoke up.

“Look who's finally up, bitch. We made a spot specifically for you, so you better appreciate it.”

It was true. There was one part of the couch, at the very center where most of the pillows had been placed. So much care had been placed into arranging it, that was clear to see.

Phil deposited Techno on the couch, immediately getting a blanket to throw over him. A bowl was shoved in his hands, and before they knew it, a movie was on.

And Techno was trapped. Tommy had claimed a spot right next to him, forcing Ranboo to sit on his other side, while Niki had taken Techno’s right side. Wilbur sat next to her, while Phil had a spot next to him. It was squished and crapped, and he loved it.

Even as the movie played, the itchiness was starting to get unbearable, to the point where Phil perched himself on the arm of the couch and started to preen his wings.

“Are they bothering you?” it had been so quiet, Wilbur’s voice almost startled him, snapping his eyes to his middle child.

“Yeah, it’s just been a while since I’ve taken care of them,” he mumbled, trying to not distract the others from the movie.

“Here, I’ll help.”

Phil was moved to the floor of the couch, a blanket draped over his lap, spreading his wings out so Wilbur could help preen.

A moment passed before he started to feel a hooved hand starting to card through his feathers. The limb was slowly stretched out, Tommy grabbing the very end of it before he started to work on the large black feathers.

There were some very quiet whispers from Tommy and Wilbur, starting to instruct Niki and Ranboo on how to properly take care of wings. Between picking out the dirt, and setting the feathers into the correct position.

Phil let his wings fluff out, making them easier to work with. The familiar feeling of hands running through his feathers forced the avian to let out the breath he did not know he had been holding. When his sons had been little, they had always jumped at the opportunity to touch his wings, so when he had taught them how to preen wings, they had been ecstatic. Something about the feathered limbs that just got them so excited. And Phil found himself leaning into the touch of his sons, almost closing his eyes as the four of them made work of the mess that four days of stress had caused to the poor wings.

The overwhelming feelings started to wash away from him, draining out of every part of his body, letting him breathe again. While his mind started to become his own again, the avian could recognize just how completely overwhelmed he had been with this whole situation. Maybe being in four high-stress, high emotion conversations in one day had not been the best idea, but it was what had needed to get done. It was his job to protect his family, and a large part of him saw Techno getting gravely hurt as a failure. And just because he knew in his heart that his sons did not hate him for the mistakes he made, it did not stop the echoes of doubt in his mind.

As soon as the last feather was placed, about halfway through the movie, "Up" as Tommy had so loudly suggested, Phil was pulled back into the couch, but this time placed in between Tommy and Techno, squashing in between the two of them, trying his best not to touch any of the gauze he knew where there.

Stretching out his wings Phil wrapped around everyone on the couch, pulling everyone closer to him. Techno laid his head on the avian’s shoulder, while Tommy wrapped his arms around his father, placing his head on the inside of Phil’s arm.

The movie ended, and a new one was put on. Wilbur got up to make popcorn, and Niki joined him. The evening seemed to be muted with peaceful silence.

"Lord of the Rings" was up next, but it did not take very long for short deep breaths to start. Techno was the first one to fall asleep, a big blanket gently tucked around him specifically, while Phil carded his hands through the fur on his head, occasionally rubbing his fuzzy piglin ears.

Phil was not sure when he fell asleep, but it must have been somewhere in the mix because the next moment he was half-awake, and the room was black. Techno and Tommy still clung to him, eyes shut lightly. Wilbur was whispering to someone at the door there seemed to be a lot more space on the couch. After a moment, there was a dip on Techno’s side, and someone wrapped their arms around the wounded piglin, pulling them close. Phil pulled his wings in tighter, enveloping everyone with all of the warmth and safety that he could. He was going to keep them safe. No matter what.

***

The week had passed so much quicker than Techno would have liked. Every day was filled with the same kind of monotony that he loved more than anything. He could sleep in for as long as he wanted, which meant he was waking up at almost noon almost every day. Nothing was planned ever, and maybe that's why it was so great. He would change his bandages before getting some breakfast. Tommy would drag him off somewhere to hang out, forcing him to watch while he did something stupid. Sometimes it was collecting rocks at the creak. Sometimes it was fishing out by the dock. But there was always something that Tommy wanted to do, and he would get dragged along.

Not that that was a bad thing. More often than not, his younger brother was a lot more conscious of what the physical state of his brother was. More than he would let on that was. There was always a shady spot for him to sit, and he was never allowed to do anything other than watch. But that did not mean that Tommy did not supply him with many things to keep him occupied. Small crabs with pretty shells. A fish in a bucket. Holding onto the various things he was foraging. It was a simple way to be around each other and still allowed him to rest.

After hanging out with Tommy, it was Wilbur’s turn to steal the older away. This had a much more consistent theme; with that theme being dragged up the stairs and forced to help with music stuff. Lyrical things, even though Techno did not understand the first thing about music, it was still nice to hear Wilbur’s voice when he was practicing, or making new songs. They would often break for lunch, Wilbur basically forcing him to stay put while he went to go make something.

They would talk, and eat, and talk some more, making jokes, and occasionally getting interrupted by Tommy who decided that he needed to be a part of the conversation.

That would lead into early evening, when Phil would get his son. Setting up a stool on the island and giving him things to chop while he prepared dinner. The sun would go down behind the horizon, slowly disappearing behind the mountains until they needed to turn on the lights to see. Sometimes they would talk other times they would silently work while Phil hummed a tune.

After dinner, they would pile onto the couch, and watch a bad soap opera, making fun of it at every moment. Sometimes laughing until the wound on his side started to ache, and they needed to stop. Always paired with tea of some kind, sipping the hot drinks until midnight, and they all went back to their rooms.

It was perfect.

Techno would lay awake some nights, staring at the contact of his manager, finger hovering over the call button. He could call, void his contract, and be done. Stay here for a while. Let his body recover, rather than putting on a show with the help of the strength potions.

That was another mess, wasn’t it? The potions themselves were creating a problem. Mostly because they were doing their job too well.

He had started by taking sips because he knew that his body would start building a resistance to them. Sips were a good way to start, to try to hold off the mess that it could very well turn into very fast. And now that problem was catching up to him much faster than he had been anticipating. By the time he was two days away from having to go back to Hypixal, he had to drink two full bottles of the stuff just to keep up the illusion of a consistent rate of improvement. Techno had to force them down his throat every day, the smell making his stomach churn. At least there was some comfort in knowing that they made him feel so sick that he was pretty sure he could never get addicted to them.

Maybe being addicted would make it an easier part of his day, hunching over the sink, taking deep breaths, trying to keep them down. His body had already rejected the potions once, and that had been a very bad day. Mostly because he had to take the same dosage again once he was done throwing up his guts. At that time he had been at one potion per day, and the whole time he felt like he was experiencing the day through a thick, hot sheet of air and displeasure. His skin pricked with annoyance, every touch hurt, every thought made it feel like his mind was going to bleed out through his mouth. It had been a blessing when nighttime came, and the night was just full of fever dreams and the feeling of being cooked alive.

It was not something that he wanted to relive again. So making sure that his body did not reject the drug he had to give it was important. Especially today.

Swallowing down the nausea and straightening out his fur, Techno stepped outside of the bathroom.

It was earlier than he normally got up, but that meant that the house was quiet. Phil was the only one who got up early. Early-bird, and all of that. The man was currently sitting on the outside pouch, a cup of coffee in his hands, listening to the soft crash of waves off in the distance and the calls of the birds.

Techno stayed for a few minutes too long, just watching through the shuttered windows. Phil could not see glass, which had been funny, until he had almost gotten a concussion with how much be bumped into them, so they had shutters on all of the windows to make sure that their bird parent would not run into them.

Techno’s minor concussion had healed up, and it was not like he wasn’t healing. But it was still a patchwork design of a piglin, held together with the thread of potions, and that thread could break if he did not keep up with it. He knew it was stupid to return too fast. He _knew_ that.

Maybe that was what made his next actions so hard.

“Hallo,” Techno hummed, sitting down on the bench next to Phil.

“Hello mate. You’re up early.”

“Wanted to see what the hype was all about.”

“Thoughts?”

“Overrated.”

Phil laughed. He had always loved his father’s laugh.

They basked in silence for a few minutes while Techno tried to get his thoughts together. Phil wanted patiently, the way that he always did, sipping on his coffee that always had too much cream.

Techno took a breath of the fresh, crisp air, letting the words tumble out of his mouth as he exhaled, silently apologizing in advance.

“I am thinking of going back to work soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A (mostly) fluff chapter, for all of your fluff needs. Now buckle the fuck up, this is where things start to get interesting.


	15. Fights Between Family Hurt the Most

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my defense, I told you to buckle up.
> 
> Also, do not freak out by this being the 'last chapter' I am not done with this series, just this work/book. There is going to be another work in this series, until the "Fighting Pit" folder, to keep your eyes out for that, this is just done with this section of the story.

Phil froze. Did he hear that right? That had to be right because Techno did not retract, or clarify, or anything. He just stared with blank, chocolate eyes.

But no, that couldn’t be right. It had been a little more than a week since he had been here. He got better every day, stronger and stronger, but there was no way that he was healed enough to fight. It was a shock. Phil could not help but stammer for a few moments, unable to process what had been said.

“W-umm….yeah….wait, Techno. Do you think that you are well enough? I mean….you have not been here for very long. I….don’t think that going back would be smart.”

“I feel ready to….you know…..go back. I mean, I do heal faster than most people….”

“But it’s not just your physical health,” Phil was fighting with himself to stay calm. He could not raise his voice, no matter how much he wanted to get the point across. He needed to be better than before. “It’s about your mental health too. Techno, you also bleed out in your car after work. That’s….not something that should even be happening. Did your managers just not see how much you were bleeding? Did they miss that? How could they have…..?”

“Sometimes, people just miss things,” Techno snapped, looking straight ahead of him. His jaw was set, clenching his teeth together. Was this really how he was going to lead up to his conversation?

“You understand why I am worried, right?” Phil spoke with the calmest voice he could muster at that moment. “I just want to make sure that you’re ok. And sure, you’ve been getting stronger over these past few weeks, and I would not doubt that you are back to where you were before, but…..still. I don’t trust Hypixel after letting you almost die. And I want you to come to me if there is an issue, and you….haven’t. And that makes me nervous when you say you want to go back.”

That was it. That was everything when it was boiled down to it. Phil just wanted answers. Especially now.

Silence filled the growing void between them.

“I….” Techno started, before closing his mouth again. That was ok. Phil was not going to rush him. There was no rush. “I wanted to make something of myself. I….wanted to prove that I am worth it. That I’m not….just a mob. And fighting has always been something that I am good at, and I enjoyed it. And….”

His heart was breaking. A physical ache in his chest while Techno’s face twitched with emotion, trying to keep the tears away. He swallowed the words and questions there would be time for that later. Right now, he needed to listen.

“And I wanted you to be proud of me.”

Techno broke, letting his head fall into his hands while quickly rubbing the tears out of his eyes.

Phil jumped out of his seat, sliding over to the bench where Techno sat, before opening his arms with an inviting smile. Slowly, the piglin shifted over to his father, curling up against his chest. He seemed so much smaller than the full-grown piglin he was in that moment while Phil ran his fingers through his fur, silently sobbed.

“You don’t need to prove anything. You never had to prove anything. You’re so driven and passionate, and I would be proud of you no matter what you do.”

Phil tried his best to give a grounding rhythm for Techno, running his fingers through the thick fur. Pulling on it a bit to allow him to focus on something that was not in his head. It was a moment before he was able to pull together enough courage to speak again.

“Who told you were ‘just a mob?’”

Techno laughed dryly. Still hiding his face.

He did not answer.

Phil was not sure how long they stayed there, holding his oldest son while he cried softly into his shoulder, feeling every shiver of Techno’s body. It was not until the piglin pulled away did Phil miss the place that he filled next to his chest.

“I-I know that you're worried, but I want to go back,” Techno said, clenching his hands into fists, and placing them on his knees. Not looking up.

Phil signed, turning away to look at the forest while running a hand through his hair.

“I want to make sure that you can physically handle it first,” he dragged his hand down his face, “and I am going to be checking up on you more. I know…..that it can be stifling to be home, and I don’t want to stifle you if you want to leave. But I do want to make sure that you are alright. We can put this conversation on hold, but….we’ll have to pick it up later. Give us both time to collect our thoughts. Are you alright with that?”

Part of Phil doubted that Techno had even heard what he said, the piglin just kept staring at the floor in front of him, blank eyes. Barely even moving at all. Afraid that he had started dissociating again.

“Techno?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” The words sounded so forced and almost dry in his throat. He was closing himself off. Phil held himself back from prying. Instead, he got up.

“Be in the training area in ten minutes with an iron sword.”

This was the plan. It was a bad one, but it was the only one he could come up with. He would fight his son. If there was any flaw in Techno's technique, any part of his fighting style that was not the way that it should be, that would be enough for Phil to force him to stay home.

The shed where all of his weapons were stood only a walks away from the training area, making a beeline there. He opened the door and went right to the swords that were mounted on the walls. Where diamonds gleaming, flowery iconography running all around the blade. Netherright blades harsh and shining with enchantments, red veins running through the metal.

This place held treasures of his past, only taken out for maintenance, and when he was teaching his sons the art of battle and war. Proof of the life he had lived before a piglet had been placed into his hands by an old friend, and he had started collecting abandoned children. Sometimes he missed that life. But he knew he would never trade what he had.

There was a barrel filled with wooden and stone swords that were often used for practice. And on the lowest rung of the mounts lay Phil’s iron sword. Sharp, basic and deadly in the right hands. It had no fancy enhancements or etchings on it that happened through the sword-making process, but that made it more intimidating. It was not going to make death pretty or a dance. It was going to be simple and bloody, boiling down the situation to what it was: taking a life.

It was obvious that Phil did not spend a lot of time in this shed anymore. Suits of armor started to collect dust, and the blades started to dull a little through disuse. Upkeep was something he had been neglecting as of recently. The taste of power in the room sent shocks of excitement through his veins. A sort of fire that he had not felt for a long time.

His hands were shaking. Holding the sword with a death grip.

He did not want to do this. And yet he knew that it had to be done.

The training area was almost right next to the shed, a mix of packed down dirt, with a pit of sand in the very center of its octagonal shape. Large tree trunks stood at the corners of the arena, hacked and sliced from years of use, with low stone walls surrounding the entire place. It was simple. And where Techno and Phil had spent most of their time together.

The piglin was already there when Phil arrived, standing off to the side of the sandpit, looking right at his father. His stance was powerful, gripping his sword and a slight tilt in his head.

It had been years since the first time Techno had beaten his father. It had been after a fight the two of them had, but neither of them was able to remember what it had been about. Both of them had gone to bed angry until the itchiness was too much for Phil to bear, and he stalked outside grabbing his sword, hoping to get some aggression out. Techno was already there, sword digging deep into the tree trunks with each swing.

They stood, looking at each other, much like they were now. Before running at each other, with frustration and anger embroidered into their screams, stitched onto the cloth of misunderstanding. The battle only lasted a minute, but it was the most intense battle Phil had ever been in. The raw emotion, not only from his son but also from him. Screaming, clashing of metal to metal, a pure and exposed depiction of their skills. Phil did not realize he had lost until it was too late. Until he was on his back, with the sharp tip of a blade pressed against his throat, breathing so heavily he thought his heart was going to burst.

Techno had looked so scared. Letting out a terrified squeal before immediately dropping his sword and backing up, covering his mouth with his hands.

_“Dad, I am so sorry, I-I did not mean….”_

Phil had done the only thing he could think to do, pulling Techno into a hug, heaving young adult to his lap, and holding his son close. It took only a second for Techno to melt into the embrace, clenching into him with a sort of desperation and need that was like a child for their parents.

After that night, they had forgotten all about the fight they had before, and it became the day that Techno first beat his father. So special Phil had put it on the calendar, making sure to remind Techno how proud he was of his son.

They had a few other sword fights after that, and Phil had been defeated a few more times, but never consistently.

Even now, as the father and son stared each other down, he was not looking to be defeated, only looking for something out of the ordinary with Techno’s fighting style. Something that would say that he was too weak to be back into an environment where he fought as a job.

Which meant that Phil could not hold anything back.

The sword sang as he pulled it from the sheath, letting it loosely fall to his side, looking down at the warrior in front of him. He let his wings puff out a bit, making him look bigger and ready to use them at a moment's notice if he needed to.

The two started to circle each other. Slow and calculated, a breath of tension between them.

Techno was the first to attack first. A growl of aggression, before dropping all of his weight, and trying to get an upwards swing at his father.

Phil was quick to beat his wings, letting himself fly up into the air and back a bit before matching the movements, rushing his son, their swords meeting in midair.

The stances were practiced and familiar, each one matched with a counter. A few Phil recognized, and a few that were new. The avian was more than happy to go onto the defense, for now, taking in every attack for what it was:

A crude display of power.

Each blow he had to absorb. Each move back was giving up land. Each dodge indented the sword into the ground. Technoblade was powerful that much was not up for debate. Maybe it was the sheer amount of if that made Phil terrified.

_Shit!_

Phil backed up, again, adjusting his stance, barely having time to regain his balance, before another blow. He ducked under and rolled off to the side of Techno, hoping to get some kind of control over the battle if he attacked from the side.

_Fuck, this is bad._

He was overwhelmed. Just by the speed and power alone of the blows. But also from the pure amount of skill that Techno had. It was….scary.

Phil was scared.

Fear shook him violently when the piglin rushed at him again, raising his sword just in time to block the blows, shrinking back from the noise. This could not be happening _This could not be happening!_

Terror clouded his vision while a rough hand grabbed into his wrist, twisting him around like a rag doll and throwing him through the air and onto his back. Phil could have sworn he heard something pop. He screamed in agony, cut short only by the wind leaving his lungs. The familiar feeling of death started to creep over him while he looked up at the sword in between his eyes.

“W-wait,” he choked, coughing to get some sort of air back into his lungs.

Time froze. Phil saw the person behind the sword for the first time since the fight had started. Barely breathing hard, sweaty with effort, Techno. His son.

Why did it feel like he had been fighting someone else?

There was a beat of silence. One where Phil was not sure if he was going to get killed or not. Before the sword was lowered, and the piglin offered his hand.

Phil laughed. What else was there to do?

“Well mate,” he croaked. Terror still kept him prisoner in his chest, clutching at the cloth around his heart to try to keep it front bursting. “Looks like you’re ready to go back.”

***

It was a day later, and Techno was packing to leave. Victory over his father had been very, very bitter. The sour taste in his mouth had not left since that day, just under his tongue. It was the fear in his father’s eyes. The way that he looked at his son like he was a monster.

Before the actual fight had started, Techno had drunk half a potion more, just to make sure that he was going to win. Halfway through the fight, he realized that that had been a mistake.

While fighting for Hypixel, he had picked up new tricks. How to fight without a shred of mercy or care of the other person. Ruthless and almost animalistic. That had overwhelmed Phil in an instant that much was very clear.

Phil had fought monsters and creatures in his time as a survivalist. Not people who could become so much worse. Animals were just trying to survive, that was respectable. A cycle where everyone involved respected the other's survival. People were cruel because they wanted to be. It was a choice.

That was the difference between Phil's and his fighting style. Phil respected whoever he was fighting, accepting the outcome either way. Techno would kill whoever got in his way.

And after offered no comfort. Phil retreated to clean up, barely about to look him in the eyes, and the two had not interacted much since then, not without someone else in the room. It was awkward and tense, and not like any outcome of their fights ever. Techno blamed himself.

Now it was the last day. He was going back, packing all of the things that Niki had brought for him into a duffle bag, and heading out. He had work early the next morning, and to say the very least, Jones had been very pleased about the update, saying that they had “something new and big planned that would get people fired up for sure.”

It was going to be just as bad as it sounded.

With a sigh, Techno zipped the duffle closed. Another day tomorrow. Just like it had always been. Things would go back to 'normal'. A prison in habit of his own making. He was vaguely aware of that but refused to look it in the face. It would mean too many things he was not ready to admit.

“Techno.” Wilbur’s voice startled him out of his thoughts, turning to face his brother in the doorway. A yellow sweater draped over him, with dark bags under his eyes. A spark of determination in his eyes.

“Hey.”

“Dad says you're leaving?” Straight to the point. Wilbur had always been like that.

“Yeah.”

Techno felt trapped all of a sudden when his brother walked in. Why was Wilbur here? They were going to send him off, why did his younger brother feel the need to trap and talk to him in private?

Wilbur skirted around the bed so he could face his brother, a crease in his brow that Techno was not so sure he liked.

“I don’t think that that’s a good idea.” Well, that was blunt. Wil continued before Techno got the chance to rebuttal. “I’ve been doing some research, and Hypixel has been shady, to say the least. You don’t have to tell me anything, but I saw the potion particles, and glamour magic, hiding something that might be less than legal in the ring.” Techno’s heart stopped. “We have not looked into any of the major people in power, mostly because we knew it would be hard, but Ranboo said that he was going to ask one of his brothers to help us uncover more about them since computers is what he does. We can bring them down, just with the things that I have collected alone, you won’t have to do anything, and I think that…..”

“Wilbur stop.”

He was barely able to register how harsh his voice sounded, much less how much Wilbur had flinched at his tone. Desperately, he tried to keep his mind present, and in his body. This could not be happening.

“Wil, listen to me, you need to destroy all of your research.”

His hands were shaking. This was so much worse than he had ever imagined.

“What….?”

“Wilbur! You need to get rid of all your research. What part of that did you not understand?”

This was falling apart. Everything was falling apart. How had he lost control so fast?

“What the fuck do you mean? I’m trying to help you.”

“I never asked for your help, and I currently don’t want it.”

Wilbur was doing to get hurt out of his own fucking ignorance.

“You never ask for help! Not until you're bleeding out in a car, and are about to die. So excuse me for not wanting that to happen again.”

“You don’t know what you're getting yourself into.”

“Then explain it to me!”

Techno grabbed his bag and started to stake towards the door. Wilbur slid in front of him, blocking the door.

“Move, Wil.”

“What? Am I supposed to just let my brother go back to the place that almost killed him? Phil might not be able to say it, but I currently can, that place does not give a fuck whether you live or die.”

“I said, Move!”

He threw too hard. There was a loud _crunch_ and a yelp from Wilbur when he hit the wall. Techno’s snapped to look at his brother, cradling his crumpled hand in his arm, looking worriedly between the two.

_Oh hell._

“Techno wait!”

He kept moving. Through the front door.

“You stupid fucking piglin, just listen to me for one second!”

Almost to the portal, his pace picked up a bit.

“Technoblade just listen to me!”

“Fuck off.”

“You fucking, stupid mother fucker! Why do I even try? You’re just going to walk away.” Techno was next to the portal, only turning around to see Wilbur halfway up the path, Phil just emerging to the scene. “Go on big man. Go get yourself killed. See if I give a fuck!” Tears were streaming down Wilbur’s face, red with rage. “But this time, don’t bother _fucking_ calling next time you're about to die from your own goddamn _stupidity_!”

The world froze. Someone had stabbed him in the chest and slit his throat at the same time, all of his blood was slipping out creating invisible puddles on the ground. Looking into the heavy breathing face of his brother, Techno could only come to one conclusion.

‘He meant those words.’

“Fine.”

The faint protests and yells from Phil echoed around behind him, as Techno stepped through the portal, letting the cold magic take him, voluntarily, away. Head held down, Techno walked back to his apartment, the journey passing in a blur, but the faint register of darkness etched into his brain.

He did not acknowledge the tears until he was on his bathroom floor. He did not realize he was throwing up until he spit the last of his stomach contents into the toilet. He did not realize how sick his face made him until there was shattered glass all over the sink and blood trickled down his knuckles.

He did not realize how alone he felt until his arms wrapped around him, rocking back and forth, trying to purge his mind of what had just happened.

He was alone. Completely alone. And there was no one to blame, but himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything is going great :)
> 
> Genuinely, thank you to everyone who left a comment, read, gave kudos, everything. It means the world, and this fandom got me back into writing on a constant basis and being more confident with my writing. If there is any way you want to see improvement, please let me know, I am trying to get better at writing, which is why chapters take a while sometimes.
> 
> Again, keep your eyes out for the last work of this series, it is going to be loads of fun! Thank you again to everyone, and I will see you all in a day or two.

**Author's Note:**

> mmmmmmm pog


End file.
